


Skylanders: Darkest Hour: Rise of the Dragon King

by UndeadProwess



Series: Darkest Hour [1]
Category: Skylanders - Fandom, Spyro the Dragon (Video Games)
Genre: Dragons, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeadProwess/pseuds/UndeadProwess
Summary: The Skylanders have just finished taking on Kaos alongside the newly rediscovered Giants, but their celebration is short-lived when a new threat looms from the distant Dragon's Peak, threatening the very stability of Skylands itself....Rise of the Dragon King is a story I have been working on perfecting since 2012, and this is hopefully my final rendition. Any and all feedback is welcome. It follows the Skylanders as they take on a much more fearsome evil than the annoying and woefully disorganized Kaos, a dragon from thousands of years ago who is still out for revenge.





	1. The Calm Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> As of right now, this story does not contain rape/non-con, but it is highly likely it will come up at some point. This is not because I intend to shock or make anyone think about that, necessarily, but because it is simply a factor in the story. Some of the characters in Skylanders are dragons, and in my canon for some of those dragons, not all of them exactly have civilized societies - especially the dragons in the story that come from thousands of years ago. Consider yourselves warned, and please know that I will let you know at the beginning of any chapter if anything particularly outrageous is going to be depicted (and I will keep the warnings on the work itself updated as time goes on). 
> 
> XandyPants is a user from where I originally posted this story, FanFiction.Net, and he has allowed me to use several OCs of his plus terminology to go along with my story. Many of the Guardians mentioned throughout the story - Sage, Sebastian, Mez, Raine - are his. His word for Chill's species is neohieloilk (or hielo for short), and I use that as well. The entire idea of Guardians of Skylands comes from him. Please go give his works a look. He really is an amazing and blossoming writer.
> 
> Now with all of that out of the way... Please enjoy, and please leave some feedback. I don't care if you absolutely hated it, think I'm a nutcase, or LOVED it! Just let me know... and of course, why. :P

“Ow! Careful,” Spyro cried as he jerked his left front paw back from where Cynder was attempting to wrap a white bandage around it. “It hurts,” he defended himself hotly when she gave him an amused look.  
  
“It’ll hurt worse if it gets infected,” she mused and brought his paw back to her attention. A rather deep puncture wound had been inflicted on the paw, thanks to a well-aimed Arkeyan spear. She deftly wrapped his paw in the white, thick bandage and tied it tightly to prevent it from falling off. “There.” She sat back and admired her work before smirking at Spyro. “You wouldn’t need such a bandage had you not rushed off ahead of us.”  
  
“I guess not,” Spyro conceded, chuckling. He sat on his haunches and looked about Flynn’s ship, the Dread-Yacht. Sprocket, Drobot, and Chill were sitting in a group to themselves by the doors that led to the Game Room area. Sprocket was animatedly describing the final hit she had made on Kaos’s massive robot. She was waving her monkey wrench about haphazardly, which made Spyro feel a bit nervous, but he didn’t want to ruin their excitement. Chill was watching Sprocket’s reenactment with attentive, bright blue eyes. Drobot, though it was hard to guess his emotions due to his semi-bodysuit whose helmet covered his face, appeared to be engaged as well; his tail was moving back and forth and he was jumping whenever Sprocket made a more bold move.  
  
It was nice to see them so happy and feel so happy as well. Kaos had been giving them an unusual amount of trouble lately, especially since he had found the Arkeyan ruins scattered about Skylands, and it was nice to finally have all of it over with. He settled back down onto his stomach and rested his head against his folded front paws.  
  
Cynder laid down in a similar fashion beside him, twining her tail with his. “How long do you guess it’ll be before Kaos decides to show his face again?” she asked, a slight purr rising in the back of her throat.  
  
“Four days? A week, tops,” Spyro laughed. “That bigheaded freak can’t keep himself from bothering us to save his life. Literally.”  
  
Cynder nodded and leaned into Spyro, and he wrapped his wing over her. Content with her purring at his side, he closed his eyes with the intent of resting before getting back to the Citadel. A few moments later, however, he felt someone pawing at his muzzle to get his attention. The claws were uncomfortably short and sharp, prodding his snout.  
  
He blearily blinked and shook his muzzle, and then looked at the person bothering him. Drobot was looking down his nose at Spyro. “Yes, Drobot?” he yawned the words and stood. Cynder was fast asleep where she was and so didn’t seem to mind that Spyro had gotten up.  
  
“Hurcella is informing me that we’re getting flooded with reports from Dragon’s Peak,” Drobot explained in his reverberating, monotone voice. But then, Drobot sat back on his haunches so that he could remove the mechanized helmet from his face. He set the skull-covering top half to the side, and then pulled the bottom jaw portion free with slow, deliberate movements from his articulate, small paws. It had been a long time since Spyro, or anyone, had seen Drobot without his trademark mechanical suit and so all eyes were on him.  
  
Drobot had been known as Courage before becoming a Skylander. He had taken the name Drobot as a play on the words dragon and robot, and after becoming a Skylander, he decided he preferred (and felt he deserved) the name Drobot much more than Courage. But without his helmet, Drobot appeared much smaller, and his innate element of Air was visible. His blue eyes and aerodynamic skull fit the characteristics of the element perfectly. He had no crest on his head; he had just given himself one with the suit’s helmet. His head was mostly dark green like the rest of his body, with russet dusting the plated bridge of his nose.  
  
While Drobot identified as a Tech element due to his suit, he was actually affiliated with the Air element. And now looking at Spyro with dark blue eyes, and in a much calmer, quieter voice, said the rest of his statement. “She’s saying that the callers are reporting mass destruction. Uncontrollable fires… and lots of death. One even thinks Flavius and Ramses are dead.”  
  
Spyro’s jaw slowly fell open as Drobot delivered the news. Each word just made the realization sink in harder. He nodded carefully once Drobot was done and, holding his bandaged paw up since it was beginning to ache, he replied: “When we get back to the Citadel, we’ll hold a meeting to figure out what we do. Tell Hurcella to just tell Call Handling to tell everyone to keep calm, we’re handling it.”  
  
Hurcella was a mabu of a more foxlike descent, and had taken over as head of Call Handling. As time had gone on, calls began to overwhelm the Skylanders, and in 10054 (compare to the current year of 18082), Call Handling had been established. Hurcella was arguably the best manager of Call Handling in recent years; most of the Skylanders and Eon agreed that her hardworking and aggressive personality made her perfect for the job.  
  
Call Handling was a special secretariat, located at the Citadel in the newly rebuilt Eon’s Mansion, that handled the massive amounts of pleas for help the Skylanders received daily. The hundreds of workers, ranging from mabu to elves to even humans, ordered calls according to importance and another division of workers created mission files for the Skylanders. Hurcella would then sign them off, and Eon, Spyro, and the other elemental leaders had to decide who went on what mission. Finally, the missions were put out by Hugo at Mission Briefing on the lowest level of Eon’s Mansion, and the Skylanders could come daily to see what missions awaited them.  
  
Elemental leaders were not an official part of the Skylanders’ leadership; they were representatives more than anything. Elemental leaders were generally Skylanders who paid much attention to their fellows, or simply observed them often. They spoke based on what they knew about the other Skylanders that bore their element, and sometimes offered their wisdom, depending on who it was.  
  
In a situation that was quickly emerging as dire as this made Spyro wonder if they even had time to worry about the usual order of missions, though. Drobot nodded at Spyro’s orders and replaced his helmet upon his head. He flicked open a compartment on the side of the helmet and after pressing a few buttons, began explaining what Spyro had said to whom he assumed to be Hurcella.  
  
With worry eating away at his stomach, Spyro limped towards the captain’s helm of the Dread-Yacht, where Flynn was happily chattering away with Cali as he flew the ship (mostly without his eyes on the skies). Spyro rolled his eyes at the wannabe casanova and interrupted by clearing his throat loudly.  
  
“Oh, heya, Spyro buddy. Was just chattin’ with Cali, you see? We’ll be back at the Citadel in no time-”  
  
Spyro cut him off. He didn’t feel much like listening to Flynn’s sugary, deft responses today. “Sorry Flynn, but you’re going to need to hurry. We’ve got to organize a discussion as soon as we get back to the Citadel. Dragon’s Peak is under siege.”  
  
“What? We just beat that little weird Kaos dude, is he back already?” Flynn’s eyes weren’t even remotely watching where the ship was going now. His head was turned over his shoulder, staring at Spyro, while his arms stayed draped loosely on the steering wheel.  
  
Spyro paused. He actually hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t think it’s Kaos,” he finally said. “But we need to hurry, Dragon’s Peak is in grave danger.”  
  
“And watch where you’re going, O’ Master of the Skies,” Cali gibed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at Flynn as well.  
  
Before Spyro could hear another round of Flynn claiming he was the best and didn’t even need to watch the skies to know what was happening, he hobbled out of the room. Once he reached the end of the stairway that led to the captain’s helm, he sat on his rear and tore his fangs into the white bandage Cynder had so lovingly wrapped around his paw. As nice as it had been of her, it was hindering his movement and, while nobody goes out of their way to think an injured person is less deserving of respect than they, Spyro knew full well even so much as seeing him in a bandage would bother others.  
  
Spyro was among some of the oldest Skylanders now. Only Cynder, Sunburn, Camo, Sonic Boom, and Whirlwind rivaled him in age. While they weren’t elderly in the sense they were becoming less able-bodied, they were considered “veterans” by the other Skylanders. Spyro was even considered the leader of the Skylanders, being similar in status to Master Eon, and he was constantly looked up to.  
  
While most would complain of the pressure, Spyro thrived off of it. Being constantly needed and always having his attention demanded was a form of admiration and attention itself, and he would guiltily admit sometimes that he loved it. There were minor things that he had noticed, though. If he was bandaged, others would gush with sorriness for him. Quite frankly, he disliked that, and enjoyed giving off the vibe of fearless, and somewhat undefeatable, leader. Eon had warned him this behavior had the potential to harm him in the long run, but Spyro felt that removing a bandage from his superficially injured foot couldn’t have too many repercussions.  
  
After tossing the bandage over the side of the ship, he approached where Chill and Sprocket were sitting. Drobot had decided to take a seat a fair distance from them now on one of the myriad of crates dotting the Dread-Yacht’s decks, while Chill and Sprocket both seemed to be enjoying one another’s company in stiff silence now.  
  
“Chill,” Spyro called as he drew near, “once we get back to the Citadel I’m going to need you and the other leaders in the room immediately. Tell anyone you see and I’ll do the same on my way. Okay?”  
  
Chill nodded and Sprocket gave him a concerned look. “Do you think it’s Kaos? It sounds… it sounds too awful to be Kaos,” Sprocket shook her head. “One thing after the other, am I right?” Sprocket chuckled uneasily as she exchanged looks with Chill.  
  
“One thing after the other,” Spyro echoed in a sigh. He smiled at her after though. He didn’t want to depress or discourage them. “But we’ll handle it. I mean, we took on the Arkeyans today, right? We can handle any little problem that’s causing such an upset in Dragon’s Peak.” With his head held high and Sprocket and Chill smiling again, even if only a little, he sat down and patiently waited for them to arrive at the Citadel again.  
  
He felt as if the entire ship gave a great sigh of relief as the Citadel came into view. He also felt as if everyone on the ship tensed. He did, too. This day was not over yet.  
  
Not by a long shot.


	2. Majority Rule

Chill was standing stiff as a board, and had her eyes trained on the far wall. To her left, Ignitor, Stealth Elf, and Hex also stood and to her right, Trigger Happy, Whirlwind, and Terrafin stood. Tree Rex was leaning in through the broad, open window on the far side of the room. While the room itself was too small and the floor too weak to handle his weight, the window had been augmented to the design to allow him entrance to the meetings.

Spyro was pacing the length of the dim room. The meeting room was little more than an empty, rectangular space with a long table that had long since been pushed to the side, forgotten. Only four circular lights in the ceiling lit the space, and the Skylanders frequently had animated discussions here. Eon had insisted the dim lighting helped convey urgency and encouraged them to talk more, and faster. 

Eon himself was floating evanescently to the side, flickering in and out of opacity. He quietly regarded the meeting, usually not speaking much. He only intended to interfere if he saw a dire need, allowing Spyro to direct the meetings usually. 

Spyro finally stopped his pacing - how long had he been at it now, five minutes? - when Trigger Happy interrupted him. “Spyro,” Trigger Happy sighed, sounding exasperated, “Aren’t we in a hurry? Anyway... We should use Skylanders that can fly, right? And-”

Spyro cut him off by holding up a paw and shaking his head. “Wait a minute, Trig. First… are we even sure that we want to go in guns blazing?”

“I always go in guns blazing,” Trigger Happy responded quickly and without faltering, which had the reaction of the other Skylanders giving him a knowing look. The gremlin noticed the stares on him and his sharp, auburn ears fell in embarrassment. “What? It’s true! And I’m fine!”

“Define ‘fine,’” Hex said, giving the gremlin a small, almost unnoticeable smile. 

“Anyway,” Spyro continued, “we should gather information first. Otherwise, we risk endangering ourselves, badly. We don’t know what’s going on down there. Hurcella reported a death toll up there in numbers with the Dragon Hunter’s War. I don’t want to add any of us to those statistics.”

Chill swallowed hard, clearing her throat. She raised her chin and spoke in a dutiful tone reminiscent of the one she once used to address her queen, back in her old home, the Ice Kingdom. While the others had grown used to it by now, she had grown conscious of the odd stares she was given for her extreme formality. “With all due respect, Spyro, that same reason is why we should make our presence known. With the numbers Hurcella has reported, it’s likely if we don’t interfere they may wipe out Dragon’s Peak in its near entirety. We threaten permanently damaging Dragon’s Peak if we do not interfere to our full potential.”

“If these guys are destroying dragons like flies,” Ignitor stepped in, “I don’t think a petty team of Skylanders will help much. I’m with Spyro. We must gather information and plot from there. Dragon’s Peak, like other damaged countries, will repair in its own due time. We cannot let knee-jerk reactions influence us.”

Chill’s eyes darted to the knighted fire spirit, and she felt a bolt of anger. Her home country, the Ice Kingdom, was still in ruins and owned by a combination of trolls and cyclopses. Her people had made no steps in recovering it, as every attempt ended in easy defeats of them by the masses of enemies that had gathered on home soil. What did this courtly knight know of struggling countries, and their innerworkings? Furthermore, she felt that the last part had been directed at her specifically, for hielic people were known for being especially belligerent. 

“It may not,” Chill responded, her voice terse, but still respectful. “There are many countries that have not recovered from past blunders… for example, the Northern Isles.” ‘Northern Isles’ was a commonly used term to describe the Ice Kingdom and the surrounding islands that fell, and Chill had used it in an attempt to make it seem less personal. But the way Spyro eyed them both for a few seconds told her he knew full-well that she had used it as an example to propose a rebuttal for Ignitor.

“I don’t know about long-term effects,” Hex chimed in with her sultry, slow tone, “but I do know about temporary ones, and I know that it’s very likely more dragons are being executed as we sit here and deliberate. Stealth or brawler mission. Is that the question? I vote stealth. We get in unannounced, figure out what is happening, and over the course of the next few days, decide our means of attack.” 

Hex always had such a finalizing, piercing tone. She made her statements as if they were final announcements, and whatever she said, that was that. But she was informal, and oftentimes, blunt to a point of rudeness. Chill found it insulting on occasion, but here, she only had one issue with it. “And what if this stealth team comes across dragons in danger?” Chill added. “We can’t simply leave them.”

“If we add brawlers to the mission and make ourselves known, we may not be able to gather the information we need,” Hex countered, eyeing Chill carefully. 

Spyro sighed audibly and looked about the gathered leaders. “Tree Rex, Stealth Elf, Whirlwind, Terrafin, what do you think?”

All eyes shifted to the broad, ovular window to the far right of the room. Tree Rex raised his massive head and tilted it in thought, his green eyes shifting to the ground far below him. They then turned to focus on the Skylanders in the room again. “I think a stealth mission is better suited. We shouldn’t endanger ourselves before we know what we’re getting into.” He chuckled, the deep, reverberating noise enough to rattle the room. “My Giants and I learned that the hard way.”

The attention of the room then seemed to change to Stealth Elf. She was leaning farther away to Chill’s left, all the way in the leftmost back corner of the room. She was twirling one of her daggers patiently as the others discussed, and had her eyes closed until she felt their gazes on her. She then returned their attention with quiet recognition. It was a few minutes before she spoke at all. “A stealthy, information-gathering mission should be launched. We can identify the threat and act from there. We go in ‘guns blazing’ as Spyro put it, we risk not only our hides but worsening our situation with the enemy before we even know what we’re dealing with in the first place.”

“Are you trynna say we might ruin any chance of diplomacy? Elf, in case you didn’t hear, whoever’s taken over there has just been killin’ everybody. I don’t think there’s much diplomacy to be had,” Terrafin snorted, crossing his arms. Stealth Elf locked her eyes on him, and Chill saw her ears twitch in annoyance, but she said nothing.

Whirlwind nodded in approval, saying she agreed with an information-gathering mission. Terrafin followed up with that while he didn’t think they had any chance at diplomacy, as Stealth Elf had seemed to suggest, he felt going in brawling wouldn’t be a smart idea either, and also voted for a stealth mission. Spyro nodded, having heard all of his leaders, and then turned to Eon.

Eon’s spiritual head was still watching them all in cold, revering silence. He spoke only when Spyro turned to look at him. “I think you’ve all come to a wise decision, but you had better decide it in all finality quickly. Dragon’s Peak doesn’t have much time for its saviors to bicker.”

Spyro looked as appalled as the rest of them felt. Surely Eon understood they had had no choice but to discuss this first? “If you thought we should have acted first rather than discussing,” Spyro began slowly, “why did you allow us to meet?”

“Some day, Spyro, you will have to operate without me. You need to learn to work with your Skylanders and yourself, and without me,” the elderly Portal Master smiled at him knowingly. “Calm yourself, you were right in hosting a meeting. Wrong in allowing it to take this long. Now, draft the mission document and give it to whoever the lucky Skylander is to lead the mission, and quickly.”

Spyro and the rest of the captains shared a knowing expression. The leader of this mission, Chill presumed, would be Sunburn. He had been born in Dragon’s Peak and had hosted many a mission there before, and he was undoubtedly the best suited. 

“Sunburn,” Ignitor echoed everyone’s thoughts.

“Good,” Spyro nodded. “Add in suggestions for other members. Remember, stealth, info-gather mission - this is not a loud and boisterous mission, so please don’t suggest Skylanders you think would threaten that. And Tree Rex,” the dragon turned to him, “I don’t think any Giants should go on this mission.”

Tree Rex nodded appreciably. “I agree.” And with that, the Life Giant silently ambled away from the Mansion. 

Chill watched as the others crowded about the table in the side of the room. Spyro had produced a paper for them to write suggestions on from seemingly nowhere, and when Chill managed to get to the paper, she added nobody. She could think of no Water Skylanders who were exceptional in a stealth-style mission, or anyone else that wasn’t already listed on the paper. 

With that, she exited the room through its ornate, dark oak door, and felt a heavy feeling rise in her chest. She stopped Whirlwind and Stealth Elf on the way out, as she had seen both of their names on the paper, printed by Ignitor and Trigger Happy respectively. “Good luck, both of you,” Chill said quietly. “You’ll need it, and I’ll wish for you.”

Stealth Elf examined Chill before responding, whereas Whirlwind gave a bouncy, “Thank you!” The dragoness rubbed against Chill’s leg appreciatively and then pranced past her. Stealth Elf nodded and went to walk past her without saying a word, or so it seemed. The elf paused before leaving earshot. 

“The mission will go well, you shouldn’t worry, Chill.” And with that, Stealth Elf performed her disappearing trick. She vanished into a small puff of green mist and was gone. Chill found herself last to leave the hall.

* * *

 

Sunburn was trotting to Mission Briefing eagerly. Ignitor had found him and told him he needed to go check his mission cue immediately, and that the one on pink paper was the one he needed to give the utmost attention to. The perky phoenix hybrid reached the central floor and turned towards the back wall.

Usually, Mission Briefing at Eon’s Mansion was bustling with activity, but it was late, and so there was only Flashwing and Pop Fizz to be seen. Mission Briefing consisted of a mechanized back wall with what at first appeared to be a simplistic computer at the bottom of it. There were four electronic squares in which a Skylander would use to validate their identity. One was larger, meant for the giants; one was low to the ground, meant for paws; another was small and upright, meant for Skylanders whose hand or pawprint didn’t identify them, and so a retinal scanner was used; the last was a traditional hand scanner. 

Once the Skylander validated their identity, on the back wall, an image of them would appear, as well as their mission roster. Using a keypad behind the identifiers, that Skylander could then print his or her mission. 

Sunburn approached and after pressing his front right paw to the low-to-the-ground scanner, his picture appeared on screen. It showed him with his wings outstretched and beak opened, as if he were about to perform a flamethrower. 

He navigated using the keypad of numbers to select his unfinished missions, and printed the mission that appeared on screen in pink. Retrieving the newly printed paper from the right of the normal hand scanner, he overlooked it, and was shocked.

He had been trusted with the leadership position in the mission to investigate the ongoings at Dragon’s Peak. And he was to have Stealth Elf, Whirlwind, Sonic Boom, Flashwing, Jade, and Cynder under his command. He was not surprised that he was leading the mission to Dragon’s Peak, but was surprised he had been trusted to lead them through Dragon’s Peak as needed for the mission rather than them having him be their tour guide while Stealth Elf ran the mission, which was usual with his missions to Dragon’s Peak.

His eyes continued to travel down the paper, and found that the mission was set to occur in only two hours. While he felt a prickle of annoyance - after all, he’d be exhausted - he mostly was too excited to care. He eagerly bolted out of Mission Briefing to go find the rest of his group for the mission, as well as to tell the news to Camo. 


	3. Message Received

Sunburn finished explaining the mission to Camo with a wild-eyed, excited expression… yet, Camo was looking at him with wide, worried eyes. When Sunburn finished, Camo jumped to his feet and shook his head vigorously. “Why are you  _ excited _ , Sunburn? This is dangerous! They’re killing dragons, firstly, which you are,” Camo said pointedly, “but secondly, it’s just a dangerous mission in general…”

Sunburn was taken aback by Camo’s lack of support. “Well, I’ve never been the true leader of missions like this. Usually I’m just a helper to Stealth Elf.” He sat on his haunches and tilted his head. “Are you okay, Camo?”

Camo opened his jaw to respond when Sunburn’s name was called by Sonic Boom. The black-feathered griffin’s voice was loud enough to be heard across the Citadel, and Sunburn didn’t want it to grow any louder. He hopped to his feet and gave Camo a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you later, probably tomorrow… see you!”

Sunburn didn’t wait for Camo to respond. He turned around and ran towards the source of Sonic Boom’s voice, which he found was on the dock of the beach on the lower levels of the Citadel. He opened his wings and easily flew to the dock to meet them, his excitement showing in how he circled them from above before landing. The others were loading onto the Dread-Yacht, where a tired-eyed Flynn was greeting them in a yawning voice.

Cali was at the base of the ladder leading up the side of the ship, rolling her eyes when Flynn yawned as he greeted Sonic Boom. “Don’t mind him,” she assured the Skylanders that still needed to board, “if he falls asleep, I’ll be there. I can fly better than he can any day.”

“What’s he so tired for, anyway?” Sunburn asked when it was his turn to get onboard.

“He stayed up late trying to swoon Sprocket, who had to be called to come fix a broken part in the engine on the Dread-Yacht,” Cali’s lips pulled at the corners towards a smile, and he swore she was stifling a laugh, “which, I think he’s lucky he didn’t end up taking a wrench to the forehead.”

Also joining him on the mission were Sonic Boom, Whirlwind, Flashwing, Jade, Stealth Elf, and Cynder. Once all aboard the ship, Sunburn looked at them, and found himself thinking quite deeply. He hadn’t ever really considered some of them before, and he rarely talked to a few.

Sonic Boom was motherly and kind, but she could also be stern. She was a force in the Skylanders that was invaluable, as she was not only a motherly figure to many of the Skylanders, but her potent abilities made her a powerful ally in battle. Of course, everyone kept their relationship to Sonic Boom at a level of a platonic camaraderie, because nobody was really comfortable discussing the griffin’s past. Her children were permanently sealed in a cycle of rebirth, never to grow any older, and it was awkward to say the least to deal with the mother griffin’s exceptional pain regarding the subject.

Whirlwind was kind and bubbly to most, but she did have a serious side. Sunburn did occasionally speak one-on-one with the dragon-unicorn hybrid, and when he did, she always seemed very humble and forthcoming. He found her presence soothing, and he liked it even more because it meant he had a healing agent on the team. Whirlwind could shoot small, rainbow rays of energy that restored the energy and could heal small flesh wounds on her teammates. 

Flashwing and Jade (her full name was Jadewing, but over time she eventually simply became known as Jade) were two gemstone dragonesses, whose origins Sunburn did not know. He wasn’t sure if anyone quite knew. But they were good friends, almost scarily in sync with one another, and even if they had a tendency to hinge on gossip about the other Skylanders they were powerful in their own right. Flashwing possessed the ability to shoot gems into walls that could emit golden rays that would heal others, as well.

Stealth Elf was the precise, killer ninja of the Skylanders. Sunburn, at least, had come to accept her as that. He rarely spoke to her because her personality was deathly serious, at all times, and it made him - a practical joker - uncomfortable. However, her method of madness certainly had its rewards. Stealth Elf was one of the most revered (and possibly feared) members of the Skylanders there was.

Cynder was another character he rarely spent time around. Cynder had a personality that was full of mock and morbid humor, with a sarcastic edge to it. The problem with that was, she also had potentially the darkest history of any single Skylander. She, under the guidance of Malefor, kept the Dragon Realms of which she and Spyro originated under intense fear, degradation, and danger for ages. She had a mark of evil - a “dark mark” - on her forehead, and still wore a metal, toothed, silver collar around her neck (and similar bands about her feet) as if to remind others of her perseverance. Indeed, her influence in the Dragon Realms had been so great, her name even echoed throughout Skylands. Despite her place as a Skylander and generally doing an outstanding job among missions, the dark mark on her forehead and intense personality made him nervous.

After reflecting on his fellow Skylanders going into the mission, Sunburn sat up and looked to the skies around them. The Dread-Yacht was traveling through the clouds at a comfortable, but still fast speed. The other Skylanders were mainly talking amongst one another, as Flashwing, Jade, and Whirlwind got along fairly well. It was he, Stealth Elf, and Cynder who remained utterly silent.

It was a rather lengthy ride to Dragon’s Peak. He watched during the ride as the skies became darker and darker and darker. Of course, if he had looked over the banister of the Dread-Yacht, he would have seen the golden rays of the sun still far on the other side of Skylands. It would disappear after a few hours yet, and then would begin to reappear only a few hours after that. 

When they began to cusp the edges of Dragon’s Peak, it wasn’t hard to figure out they were near. Soon, they began to see the flutter of groups of dragons passing overhead. As they drew even nearer to the islands, one dragon was so brave enough as to land on the Dread-Yacht itself.

He was golden, with enormous, leathery, wings and bright red eyes. “What brings you to Dragon’s Peak? You must leave, now; the new king will not tolerate any of you newcomers, I’m certain!” He looked alarmed, to put it kindly. His pupils were but pinpricks in his red eyes and he swept his tail back and forth in agitation, the metallic, spaded end creating a grating sound against the deck of the ship.

“We’re here to put an end to this,” Stealth Elf said in her husky, whispery voice. “And don’t worry,” she added, “we’re a team of Skylanders that were sent to investigate.”

The dragon snorted and said, “You’re flies that flew into the frog’s mouth,” and then turned and left the ship with a mighty flap of his wings. Sunburn ambled cautiously over to sit with the others, shaking his head in disagreement with the dragon that had just spoken with them. 

“We’ll do fine. We’re here to gather information. Nobody’s going to get hurt,” he assured them. Stealth Elf nodded.

“You’re right, nobody is.” With that, she walked to the banister of the ship, and waited for Flynn to land them. Sunburn joined Stealth Elf’s side, looking to the many islands scattered below. Most were burning, and dragons were still scrambling to escape the ruin. Fires licked and rampaged at buildings, while in other places, dragons were fighting one another. Sunburn watched in confusion. Where, or who, was the enemy? 

Curiously, he noticed many of the fires razing the islands were not of the normal orange hue. They seemed darker, in a way. The fire itself appeared to be mainly crimson-red, with a sickly orange core. And in its wake there was little but ashes left to be seen.

And then, fireballs began to sail overhead of them. Sunburn ducked when the first ball of flames whizzed by the ship, a trail of embers in its wake. He heard Flynn call above the commotion of the war below, “It’s getting too risky up here, I’m gonna have to land, and I think calling attention to ourselves was a bad thing. So the fireballs aimed right at us aren’t good!”

The Skylanders waited, albeit impatiently, while Flynn found a relatively undisturbed island to land the Dread-Yacht on. Before the captain could even come greet them again, they had hopped free of the ship and were scouring their surroundings. Whirlwind spoke first.

“The Throne Isle of Dragon’s Peak is in the center, yes?” she asked, looking at Sunburn. “Then that means whoever is doing this is likely headed, or has taken over, there.”

“Yeah, we just need to figure out how to get there without getting blasted out of the sky,” Sunburn agreed. “Fly low and keep together?”

Whirlwind nosed Stealth Elf’s hand, causing the ninja to look at her curiously. “I can carry you,” Whirlwind offered. “Unless you have a pair of winged sandals or something you carry on your person.”

Stealth Elf nodded. “Okay. I can disappear while on your back so I’m not such a hindrance on your flying. Don’t worry, I’ll still be there.”

With that settled, Sunburn beat his wings and rose into the sky. “Follow me, I know this place like the back of my paw.” The others rose behind him, and he began to lead them through the catacombs that were the underside of Dragon’s Peak.

Flying underneath islands in Skylands was generally not something you wanted to do. The gravitational pull, albeit a very light one, meant that rocks and debris on the underside of islands could fall at any given moment. Many islands were made of hard, solid, thick stone, marble, or granite at the bottom, since the dirt had long since been pulled free by gravity. The warmongering dragons overhead didn’t help the situation any.

As they flew underneath the islands, debris occasionally rolled from the islands, caused by the movement of dragons overhead, or even fires causing structures to collapse. But their speed was incredible. Without the obstruction of other dragons in the sky, or watching for threats overhead, they were moving quickly through Dragon’s Peak. Unfortunately, it was also getting darker, and harder to see the undersides of islands. Soon they would have to fly above or risk flying straight into an island.

So it was after roughly forty-five minutes of flight that the Skylanders rose from the underside of Dragon’s Peak and back into the fray. It was a different world than the underside of the islands. The sky was aglow with the red flames, and there were still dragons fleeing. Sunburn landed amidst a long, narrow island that appeared mostly empty. He hoped to allow his team a bit of a physical rest before they continued the journey to the Throne Isle.

Whirlwind looked through some singed debris on the side of the island, shaking her head. “Why all this? This is just, strange… There’s no signs of dragon hunting either. I haven’t seen a single troll or drow, and there were dragons fighting each other, but that happens all the time. Did a massive civil war just break out?”

Sunburn thought back to the dragon that had landed on the Dread-Yacht. He had referred to a “new king.” He had thought he simply meant the creatures that had overthrown Ramses and Flavius, but was it possible that it really was just an atrocious civil war that had sparked all the destruction? He looked to a small patch of red flames that were still licking at the island. Different breeds and elements of dragons were known for having various breaths - and such breaths could be any color of the rainbow, just about.

“Hey!” He was snapped out of his thought as Whirlwind’s voice cut through the air in a high-pitched tone. She was racing forward, and Sunburn immediately followed. He was unsure of what she had seen but he trusted her instincts enough to follow her, and not only that, he had to protect her. While he was in charge of this mission, her, and the rest of the Skylanders’ wellbeing, was on him. 

He stopped as he saw her leap in front of what appeared to be a dragonet. A rather small, orange dragon was blowing fire in the direction of the youngling. The fire of the orange dragon hardly singed Whirlwind’s feathers, but to the dragonet she was protecting, those flames could have done much worse. She glared back at the small, orange dragon in annoyance, and sent it packing with a well-aimed, multicolored ray to the skull. It squeaked and flapped two tiny wings, and then was gone.

“Are you okay?” Whirlwind purred to the dragonet, bringing it close to her. It nodded, its eyes huge and round, and then proceeded to cling to her leg. Sunburn exchanged a look with Sonic Boom, who had just so happened to be standing beside him. Their expressions met and only one message was communicated.  _ Now what? _

They hadn’t expected to find dragonets separated from their mothers. Generally, dragonesses were very, very protective of their dragonets, and would do anything in their power to keep them with them. He shuddered when he thought that it was very possible the dragonet’s mother had died, and that was why it was alone. 

Of course, they were still here on a mission, and they had to do that first. “Whirlwind,” Sunburn began, “we’re still on a mission. What are you going to do with…?” He raised a paw and gestured to the young one.

She looked at the dragonet underneath her thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But I’m certainly not leaving it here.” She turned to leave when another dragon came onto the island at practically a nose-dive from the skies above, and swatted Whirlwind away. The larger dragon had pale blue scales, very similar to the dragonet Whirlwind had saved. It quickly became clear to Sunburn and the others the dragon was a dragoness - and that it was the dragonet’s mother. 

The dragoness opened her jaw, a ball of light visible in the back of her throat. Yet, before she could attack the Skylanders, her dragonet pushed on her paw urgently, which caused her to drop the attack instinctively and listen to the dragonet. The dragonet proceeded to urgently whine and burble at his mother, which Sunburn somewhat understood as the dragonet trying to tell his mother that they had been nice to him. 

The dragoness swept her gaze across them suspiciously. “You saved him. Why are you going deeper into Dragon’s Peak?” She tilted her head, and then her eyes lit up with realization. She snorted, and pulled her dragonet even closer. “You’re Skylanders, and you’re investigating. I thank you for saving my dragonet, but you are on a mission to your deaths. It’s sad to say the least. I think you’d be a fantastic mother someday, feathered one.” The dragoness gave Whirlwind a mournful look through her golden eyes, and then took to the skies again with her dragonet.

Whirlwind stared after her with a distant look. Sunburn tapped his claws against the cold rocky earth underneath his feet. “We need to keep moving,” he insisted.

It took only about another hour of travel. Jumping between islands, flying quickly over open space, and rushing away from disturbed dragonflies and dragons of lesser intelligence that weren’t willing to flee their homes. They also came upon a few flightless dragons, all of whom had taken to brutally defending themselves. Sunburn didn’t blame them, but it didn’t make their job any easier.

Finally, they spotted it. The extravagant central island of Dragon’s Peak. It was large in comparison to the other islands around it, and had two levels to it. A sprawling cliff face separated the desolate, undecorated lower level from the magnificently decorated upper level. Deftly crafted columns outlined the upper level, and a beautifully carved statue of a dragon stood in the center of the island. With a sick feeling in his chest, Sunburn noticed that parts of the dragon statue had been broken, and others were smoldering.

As they snuck to the lower levels, the island felt like it was rumbling underfoot. Stealth Elf promptly disappeared, and the dragons flattened themselves to the ground. Of course, that didn’t seem to help them. A shadow covered them, and when Sunburn looked up, a massive dragon’s face was pointed down and staring at them.

Instinctively, Sunburn stepped backward. The other Skylanders followed him. Nobody had expected to see a dragon quite like this. His head was massive, easily bigger than all of them combined, and was adorned with large, raking horns. Six on either side of his head that curved sharply up and backwards, as well as three smaller protrusions above his snout, two of which looked scuffed and cracked. Narrow golden eyes decorated the dragon’s dusky black head. He gave a low, resonating growl, and bared thick, off-white fangs.

Giant wings flared to life above him, and they seemed to blot out the sky. Large, golden membranes that were shredded at the edges and cut and torn in other places filtered the light further and gave the little light that did shine through a sickly yellow tinge. He was so massive, they could hear him breathing raspily. The dragon stood to his full height and Sunburn turned to look at the other Skylanders.

“So… I think we found him,” Sunburn laughed nervously and a bit too loud for his liking.

He was given a look of disapproval from the majority of them. 

“We need to go,” Sonic Boom said urgently, flapping her wings to take to the air.

“Don’t you dare!”

Before anyone could identify what made the statement, Sonic Boom was thrown back to the ground and a light blue, feathered dragon stood over her. Sunburn jumped to knock him off her, but the feathered dragon whipped around and swiped claws down the left side of Sunburn’s face before he could even react. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the dragon chuckled. He hopped off of Sonic Boom and quietly walked away, content to watch them with glittering, amused eyes from a distance.

The massive dragon overhead snorted, and Sunburn watched as smoke wafted from his closed jaws. As he spoke, the smoke practically billowed out freely. “I didn’t expect Skylanders to visit the party so soon. Good to see you all are so attentive.” His voice was deep and equally as unsettling as his piercing golden eyes. “Sunburn… Sonic Boom… Cynder… Whirlwind… Jade… Stealth Elf…” He snorted again when Stealth Elf didn’t reappear. “I suggest you show yourself, Elf, before someone less forgiving finds you.”

She instantly reappeared and shook a hand at the dragon above. “My name is Stealth Elf,” she growled, “and if you’re going to threaten me, you would be wise to at least use it and do it properly!”

She realized the compromising situation they were in when she glanced back at the other Skylanders, and then back at the massive dragon above them. With a quiet, “Oh,” she stepped backward toward the Skylanders. She drew her blades in preparation for a fight.

“So much for info gathering,” Jade muttered, glowering at the larger dragon.

“You were here to gather information, were you?” The dragon roared loudly in laughter, throwing his head backward and pulling his wings back to his sides. He quieted down with a puff of smoke and sat on his haunches. “Take this information in, and listen carefully, Skylanders. I am Deu Sol. I am the newest king of Dragon’s Peak. This is not the last place I will be king of. I will take over every land until you Skylanders stop me… if you stop me. Your Citadel will be last, considering my efforts haven’t left it a ravaged ruin yet.” He chuckled, and which caused Sunburn to swallow hard. “And if you don’t believe me… Ala! Where’s one of those flightless lizards?”

He whipped his head backward and called for this Ala character. The sounds of struggle and distant growls and snapping teeth made Sunburn apprehensive of what they were about to witness.

Slowly, an orange dragon came into view next to Deu Sol. Then, a thin, violet face came; a whiplike pink tongue flicked from the violet dragon’s muzzle like a snake. She hissed and swiped claws at the flightless orange dragon whenever he made an attempt to escape. She turned her head to Deu Sol expectantly once her hostage was subdued.

“Push him,” Deu Sol growled.

The violet dragon, supposedly Ala, promptly pushed the orange dragon off the cliff. The dragon’s eyes bulged as his claws lashed at the cliff face behind him, trying to catch a ledge, but without wings he couldn’t hold his full weight with just his claws. Deu Sol’s jaws stretched open in one fluid motion and red fire poured out against the orange dragon. The fire was billowing and a deep, rich crimson that the present Skylanders ducked away from. They watched in a fearful awe as the orange dragon was engulfed, and destroyed. As quickly as it came, the crimson flames dissipated into sickening black smoke. A choking stench flooded the area.

The orange dragon was no more. Obliterated, all that was left of him was a pile of ashes that wafted surrealistically to the lower level of the island, just inches away from the gathered Skylanders. Sunburn watched as if the world had turned to slow motion. Fire was destructive, he knew that well, for he controlled a fire breath himself - but never had he seen flames engulf and destroy anything so quickly. Much less a living being.

“I take it my message was received.” Deu Sol’s jaws were closed again, and he had a much more sinister expression now. “You know what to do. Thank you for your attention. Pass the message on. You are dismissed. ALA! Find that ship of theirs and see them out.”


	4. The Two Kinds of Heroes

Spyro and Eon could barely understand the bumbling, rapidfire words of their comrades. Sunburn, Stealth Elf, Whirlwind, Sonic Boom, Flashwing, Jade, and Cynder were incoherent and all looked as if they had seen a ghost - or perhaps many ghosts. Eventually, Spyro turned his head and gave Eon a pleading expression with his red eyes.

The ethereal floating head gave a nod, and his eyes changed to a complete azure blue. The jittery, incoherent Skylanders began to glow and fell silent as they were moved and rearranged into neat seated positions by a mysterious force. Once satisfied with their newfound arrangement in the circular room, Eon gave a grunt of approval and the blue energy left them.

“Now,” Spyro intercepted Cynder as she began to speak again, “one at a time. Neither of us can understand any of you when you’re all talking like that. Sunburn, you led this mission. What in Skylands happened out there that has you all like this?”

Sunburn sighed, dipping his crested head toward the ground. He was seated on his haunches, his feathery tail curled about him. “We eventually made it to the Throne Island, but the calls were right. Dragon’s Peak is thrashed. There’s fires everywhere and dragons fleeing. At the Throne Island, there was a much larger dragon there… An old one… And he…” Sunburn stopped and shook his head. “It was really bad, Spyro.”

“What kind of dragon?” Eon pushed for a more detailed response, curiosity in his tone.

Cynder was the one who answered. “There was an enormous dragon at the top of the Throne Island. He was easily as big as this mansion, about as big as Kaos’s Hydra,” she said matter-of-factly. “He was all shadowy black, with dark golden eyes and these yellow-gold horns, claws, and wings. He had many horns on either side of his head and a few above his nose, on his muzzle.”

All eyes were on Eon as he deciphered the description. “I’ve not heard of any dragons like this,” Eon admitted finally. “What abilities did he have? What happened?”

“He breathed this bright red fire,” Flashwing blurted, “bright red. Like, deep, rich red. And… and he shot it at this other dragon that was there, just some regular dragon you’d expect to see at Dragon’s Peak, and… it completely destroyed him.”

“He was gone,” Stealth Elf quietly affirmed.

“Red fire?” Eon said, perplexed. “Most fire burns reddish at some part, but you mean all of it looked red? Did any of it look yellow?”

“No, all red, with some orange,” Jade answered firmly.

“It turned the target to ash, in an instant,” Stealth Elf said. Spyro tilted his head and eyed her inquisitively. He had never seen her quite so subdued before. It was unsettling.

Spyro turned to Eon when he didn’t say anything about the new information. He was now the one who looked as if he had seen a ghost. Irritated, Spyro puffed a ring of smoke. “Eon, what is it? Do you want to tell us?”

“There was… there was a prophecy a long time ago about a dragon with red flame who would unite Skylands under his rule,” Eon began slowly. “It was preached by a dragon said to have lived in Dragon’s Peak ages ago. Cirvus. There’s no way to even tell if Cirvus actually existed, much less the validity of his claim, but it was recorded in many books. Most figured it was an urban legend… But I know because it was in several of the books in my library. I was familiar with it. I’m unsure of the exact wording, but… it was very morbid.” Eon paused. “I do remember when I read it that I didn’t take it seriously, nor did I think the part about ‘turning to ash’ meant the fire had any special powers. I simply believed it was talking about, well… fire. And using red for emotional impact.”

“A prophecy? Prophecies don’t mean anything,” Cynder hissed savagely. “It’s like telling someone the future. Now that they know, they’ll change it.”

“How about you tell that to the red fire-breathing monster that we saw burn an entire dragon into a pile of ashes in seconds, then,” Whirlwind growled back, lashing her feathery tail. Her voice was tense, as if she was trying to not cry. 

“Coincidences are a thing,” Cynder shot back.

“Hey, calm down, all of you,” Spyro sat back on his haunches and smiled softly at them all. “I can imagine that that mission was… rough. You guys deserve some rest, but don’t fight each other about it, okay? I’ll talk with Eon some more and see what we should do.”

“I should stay, then,” Stealth Elf said flatly. 

“No, you need rest,” Spyro answered pointedly. “You need to learn to relax a little, Stealth.”

“Maybe.” Her ambiguous answer conveyed her thoughts as clearly as if she’d said them ( _ No, I don’t, but I’ll say this so you stay off my back _ ) and she followed the rest of the Skylanders out of the Mansion, leaving Spyro and Eon in silence.

“A dragon who can turn anyone to ash by just breathing a bit of fire on them is dangerous no matter if he came from a prophecy or not,” Spyro started the second the door to the room closed. “What do you propose we do about it?” he asked, watching Eon anxiously.

“If I’m honest, I don’t know, Spyro. It’s too dangerous to ignore, but too dangerous to send our Skylanders out there.”

They sat in silence for a moment more. Eon interrupted it with an excited exclamation. “It may be a longshot, but…” he paused and frowned, suddenly seeming deep in thought. Spyro thumped his tail on the ground in annoyance.

“But what? You can’t just trail off like that!” Spyro said incredulously, his tail waving excitedly behind him and wings flared. “What is it?”

“There are Guardians of Skylands. Beings more powerful than you or I or all of the Skylanders put together. They exist to keep the balance of the elements in Skylands in check and to keep the bigger picture in mind,” he explained. “If this ancient magic is at play and Dragon’s Peak is being damaged so badly, surely they will know something about it. Now… the question is, which of them to get into contact with.”

Spyro tilted his head. “How many are there?”

“Generally, there’s at least one for each element, though there are deficits sometimes. They’re typically very good at keeping themselves together, though. But the most knowledgeable on this matter might be Mez or Siren. Aye,” Eon breathed a deep sigh of what sounded like exhaustion. “Either way, we have our hands full.”

“And why’s that?” Spyro dared to ask.

“Mez is a… temperamental dragoness and Siren is, as her name would suggest, a siren, and not the kindest soul there is. It’s fitting, regardless. Fire is vehement and in many cases, uncontrollable. Magic is indifferent, transcending everything from species to morals. Siren is a lot easier to get into contact with than Mez, at any rate, so we’ll try that first. Though,” Eon chuckled, “you should have just told Stealth Elf to stay here. We’ll need her.”

Spyro lowered his wings and rolled his eyes. “I’ll go get her. What do I tell her?”

“We need to make a phone call to Sage,” Eon said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

“Something tells me that that will go over so well,” Spyro sighed as he made his way to the door. 


	5. Out of Practice

Mez circled the island from above, her massive white-membraned wings glided over the wind easily, which allowed her to practically float along. But the dragoness was confused. She could sense presences, she knew they were there. She just couldn’t see them. “Cowards,” she growled before deciding to take the risk of landing on the island.

She landed easily, her claws grabbing at the well-trodden rock and earth. She had heard a dragon had overtaken Dragon’s Peak and set fire to many of the islands, with a breath so powerful, those touched immediately turned to ash. She snorted at the idea. She had never heard of such a breath and as a being of the Fire element and its guardian, she felt she was quite knowledgeable on many of the magics related to Fire.

Instantaneous death, regardless of size, species, or element, was not among them.

“Show yourself,” Mez’s deep, thundering voice boomed. She sat on her haunches and tucked her wings against her sides, waiting calmly for her adversaries. “I know you’re here. I want to know what the meaning of this is.”

Suddenly, in a flurry of blinding indigo light, a constricting circle of dragons appeared centered around her. They varied in size and design, and she could sense them much more clearly now. They varied in element and there were at least twenty. After whipping her head around to survey the dragons that surrounded her, she turned her attention to the one directly in front of her. He was a dragon rivaling her size sat with his neck hunched over. She realized that he was possibly larger than she was.

His red eyes narrowed at her and she bared her fangs, her temper flaring. The flaming mane trailing from her forehead down to her tail-tip roared to life, the flames gradually changing from a typical fire color to blue. “Coward,” she spat, “hiding yourself that way.”

“Afraid that that wasn’t my idea, though I liked it. Good job, Kaz,” the dragon rumbled, leaning his head forward. Upon his words, another dragon, seated to his right, bowed his indigo head, a crest of black feathers being exposed. The larger dragon then began to stand up, unfurling the massive, golden-membraned wings he had kept folded to his sides. “You intruded in on my new home,” he practically sang in his deep, unsettling voice. “That’s quite rude, Guardian of Fire.”

Mez’s fire blazed into a platinum-white color, and then grew even brighter, more like a blinding, snowy white flames. “What’s rude is your blatant disregard for life here, not to mention the Fire element,” she roared. Assuming he understood what the guardians stood for, since he clearly recognized her, she added, “You’ve compromised the balance, and I’ve come to see how, or why - and put it right again.”

“I’m shaking,” the dragon snorted. He circled her and the other dragons loosened the circle they had developed around her. They stood up and backed off, giving a respectful distance to the larger dragon. Mez watched him for a moment. He had dark, shadowy scales coating most of his body, and golden horns that rose sharply on either side of his head. His underbelly was golden-plated and most surprising at all, at the end of his tail, floating just above the tip was a gentle, floating orb of energy. It was a mix of light yellow and white, the colors swirling serenely, undisturbed. 

Mez felt a gentle pressure on her tail - it felt like he was stepping on it - and she lashed her claws at him, enraged that he had the audacity to even do that. The larger dragon roared at her and brought his black paw up frighteningly fast, much faster than she had expected. It only had a millisecond to register before his massive paw and sharp, golden claws collided with her muzzle, sending her to the ground and crumpled on her right side. She gasped in shock and shook her head against the rocky ground, dimly aware of small trickles of blood meandering their way through her scales.

“Stand back,” she heard the other large dragon snarl.

“Deu Sol,” she heard one of the many other dragons say, “do you really want to fight her alone?” The voice was smooth but sounded truly worried.

“Yes. She is out of training,” the larger dragon - who Mez now assumed was named Deu Sol - growled, though he sounded amused. That only served to infuriate Mez further. She lunged at him the moment she got back to her paws, her jaws stretched open to deliver a bright, blazing blast of white flame, aimed at his face.

Deu Sol stood firm through the fire, gritting his teeth against it. When Mez stopped the inferno due to a need to breathe, Deu Sol rushed forward and rammed his skull into hers, shoving her backward once again. His horns were scorched and his scales gleaming from the heat, but despite the pain he was clearly all the eager to continue. Mez felt as if her heart was beating too fast. She was maddened by her slow response time, her inability to overpower him as she remembered overpowering others. She could hear his lackeys snickering and their jibes and jokes, which only fueled the fire boiling her blood.

She forced herself to her feet again and this time, she bolted toward him and clamped her jaws firmly onto his left shoulder (she had aimed for his neck, but missed). He snarled and brought his right paw up, grabbing her muzzle and digging the lengthy, golden claws into her snout. She refused to let go, despite the pain, and sank her fangs deeper into his scales. She gave light blasts of fire as she did, hot enough to hurt him but not so much it would force her to let go. She wrapped her front legs around his neck and chest area, digging her claws into him as well. 

He battered her with his left wing, and then stopped. She wondered if she had begun to overpower him and felt a savage surge of satisfaction. She wrenched her head from side to side, a move that would tear a chunk from his flesh. But before she had even begun to pull away the flesh, a searing hot pain, hotter than anything she had ever experienced, scorched her right front forearm. She retracted her teeth from his scales and howled (albeit muffled), pulling her paw out of the line of fire and attempting to retreat from him entirely. He held her by her jaw still, even harder now that she had closed it, and chuckled. He sank his claws in even deeper.

“I think that’s enough of that,” he said, a wicked glint of amusement in his eyes. Mez, still incredulous at the fact that she was being beaten, began to throw herself around with her full weight, trying to break from from his grip, but his claws held and caused bolts of pain to fire through her muzzle - and worst of all, with him holding her by her muzzle, she couldn’t defend herself that way either, and no matter how hot she made her muzzle by focusing Fire energy there, he didn’t even flinch.

“Calm yourself, Mez, this is really quite undignified for you,” Deu Sol hissed. “I just want to talk and you were the one who lashed out. Though I do give you credit, that white flame of yours is quite hot and your teeth very sharp. My shoulder will be aching for quite some time.” 

She finally stilled. Her molten-red eyes, close enough to his for him to see the tiny flecks of orange scattered throughout their sclerae, burned with a murderous hatred, but she could admit fighting him would only worsen her situation.  _ I hope it gets infected _ , she thought, humiliated.

He sat down, never loosening his grip on her muzzle, before continuing to speak. “I know you’re going to hightail it out of here the moment I let you go to your other Guardian friends and try to devise a plan to dethrone me. That’s fine. However, it wouldn’t be a very fun or fair game if you didn’t know a few things. I bet in all of your rage, Mez, you failed to notice I was of no clear elemental alignment.”

She took a moment to truly focus in on his energy that she could feel, and she found that he was right. He had no clear alignment at all, and only felt like she vaguely knew the elemental energy… she couldn’t put a name to it. She growled, causing his paw to vibrate.

“I’m a mixture of the old Dark and Light elements,” he said. When she made no visible response he chuckled and moved her muzzle ever so slightly, mocking her, “‘Oh, but that’s impossible!’ You say. Well, usually it is, but there are a few ways. I won’t tell you how, of course. My theory proved correct, at any rate,” he paused and, with his free paw, gestured to her injured leg that she was holding up and away from the ground. 

It was savagely burned, the scales gone and the flesh underneath ashen-colored and raw. In some places, blood leaked free, but for the most part, the wound was too badly burned to bleed.

“My breath does not kill guardians,” he smiled at her. “You Guardians have so many magical safeguards. It’s really quite disheartening that you have so few physical ones. I could rip out your throat and kill you that way, but my magical breath that reduces most to ash only gives you a nasty burn… Oh wait, that’s right. Normally you wouldn’t because you would train to use that to your advantage, but for whatever reason, you haven’t been doing that. I can tell,” Deu Sol laughed, throwing his massive head upward, toward the sky. “I hope the other Guardians are in better shape. I do hope this will be fun.”

Mez’s eyes darted away from Deu Sol and to the other dragons waiting patiently on the sidelines for him to be done. He noticed, and tilted his head thoughtfully. “I should introduce my comrades, you’re right, how rude of me,” he conceded, gesturing with his tail toward a dragoness to his left. She had bright violet scales and a red strip of color trailing from her forehead to her tail-tip, a crest of small, ruby-red spines protruding from her back and forehead. She sported only two slender, gleaming black horns on either side of her head, and soft blue eyes. “This is Ala. She is one of my oldest friends. I saved her from a life of servitude to a band of wizards in the Outlands. They planned to use her for whatever they desired, from hard work to depraved, unspeakable acts. She has so much potential. It sickened me that someone could be so wasteful of ability.”

The dragoness dipped her head, smiling. Mez growled again, furiously wondering,  _ And you aren’t doing the same to the rest of Dragon’s Peak? _

“This is Kaz,” he pointed to the dragon sitting right beside Ala. He was the one with indigo scales and black feathers for a crest. He also had only two horns, both also fairly slender, but his were more of a deep navy blue than black. His eyes were also more red-violet. “He was taken in by Ala almost like a son. He has some of the most impressive abilities I’ve ever seen in a Magic dragon, including our little trick earlier. He can camouflage and take the forms of others, along with control Magic energy itself quite well. He may be small, but he is mighty.”

Kaz dipped his head, too. Mez noticed that Ala had not lifted her head yet. She had a thought that made her begin to wrestle with Deu Sol again, fuming, smoke pouring from between her lips and from her nostrils.  _ He PLANNED this, _ she thought,  _ they REHEARSED it! _

“Come, come now, Mez,” Deu Sol chided her, “don’t make me mess up more than just your muzzle. I have eighteen other friends to introduce to you.”

And introduce he did. Every single one of them. There were two of each element - including the Dark and Light elements. She had not seen either of those elements in years upon years, and Deu Sol supplied he had gotten his four allies from years and years in the past. Each and every one had been ‘rescued’ by him in some way. He finished up his planned and plotted humiliation of her by giving a speech on his goals for ruling Skylands.

“Skylands is horribly disunited. Superstitions, racism, problems of all kinds run amok. Horrible things happen because of it. Take, for example, the holocaust of sorts the hielic wrought on frost elves at their inception. Indeed, you know that, don’t you, Mez? Frost elves come from matings of elves and hielic people, and the hielo in particular disliked these ‘forbidden children.’ Frost elves were abused and killed for no other reason than being what they were - and to an extent, continues to this day. Perhaps not to this scale, but similar issues arise constantly. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it could all be set straight for once?” Deu Sol asked. He slowly began to release his grip on her muzzle, but before completely letting her go, he growled deeply, “listen to me, or I’ll hold you by your throat next. I do want to hear what you have to say on this topic though, Fire Guardian, so please humor me.”

As soon as he let go, she bared her teeth until the pink of her gums was visible. “You’re a psychopath,” she spat, the fire on her back still blazing white. “And aside from that, you’re stupid, too. You can’t just unite Skylands under one rule. Skylands is bigger than you or I will ever know and you’ll kill hundreds, thousands, millions even if you think you’re going to ‘unite’ them in the same way you ‘united’ Dragon’s Peak. You and your idea is stupid and insane,” she hissed.

“Every group came about through unsavory means, just about,” Deu Sol snorted. “Everyone claws their way to the top one way or another.” He abruptly paused and stepped back, gesturing with his wings to the other dragons waiting patiently at his sides. “Send her away. Send her home.”

All twenty of the other dragons immediately reacted at his words, moving toward her and stretching open their jaws to fire their breath powers at her. Some had fire, others had energies they spewed forth, but all of them at once was too much. Mez roared her rage, but was forced to turn and dive off of the island, unfurling her wings and catching the wind underneath them. The flames on her back never died down back to their usual orange-yellow coloration; they remained stark, silvery-white. She was absolutely livid. That had been the most humiliated she had been in years. 

She headed for the Guardian Isles. There, she could contact the other Guardians and deliver the information she had received at the least to them. She was sure they had been worried about it as well, and she decided she could cover her ugly beatdown for a surveillance attempt. She raised her injured paw and began to gingerly lick the burned flesh. She saw stars the pain was so bad, but she remained upright and continued to clean it. She wasn’t about to answer any of Sage’s questions if he had any for her.

* * *

 

Winston shrunk back from Sage’s furious glare. He could practically feel the anger in the atmosphere, burning at his skin. “I didn’t know about it before today,” Winston said delicately, “not until I picked it up after this nonsense started…”

The item in question was a book that had been titled  _ Philosophical View of Dragons _ , but in an ancient tongue and by a name unknown to him, that he had had Siren decipher. She had magicked the book and changed the phrasing to one of a more modern tongue that he could understand, and the Air elf had begun reading it almost immediately. He had thought himself morbid for all of the horrible things unfolding at Dragon’s Peak, to be reading about dragons, but it had soothed his frayed nerves and helped him feel somewhat better, despite the major beating the Air element was taking.

“Where did you get the book?” Sage demanded. His eyes, normally a bright, pale wintergreen, now were blazing bright emerald. He looked arguably the worst of all of them; everyone was anxious and overworked due to the trouble at Dragon’s Peak, but due to his association with the Life element, Sage was particularly disgusted by the savage waste of life. 

“It… it was among some of the things I remember Carlisle giving to me,” Winston explained gingerly. They were standing in the cavernous main clearing in a cave system, and as such, the wall that Winston had pushed himself against was cold and uninviting, but Sage’s uncharacteristic rage was even more so. “I never thought to read it… Couldn’t understand the title… I just saw that it had a dragon on the cover today and thought to read… So I took it to Siren to decrypt…”

Sage seemed to growl and he clenched his fists. He shut his eyes tightly and whirled around to face the opposing wall. Sebastian had been standing there a few moments ago, but the ever-increasing death toll in Dragon’s Peak had likely summoned him again. He was practically a Grim Reaper, guiding certain souls to an eternal fate, on top of his usual Guardian duties.

The passage in the book they were discussing had been deciphered by Siren to mean ‘Crimson Death.’ The passage itself rhythmically, with a grim, shocking cadence, told the tale of a dragon who could breathe red fire that would unite Skylands under his rule and begin a new golden age for dragons. It was an almost prophetic message, that the writer of the book had attempted to crack like a coded transcript. The author had claimed it had been an expression of hope for dragons of the time, who were at that point in history being hunted mercilessly by further developed and more powerful people of other species. 

It didn’t seem so much like a metaphor now, Winston thought bitterly.

“I want to know where this magic comes from,” Sage whispered. “I don’t understand it. I can’t think of anything I’ve ever read other than that passage that mentions a thing breathing red fire that turns any organism it contacts into ash instantaneously.”

_ “Sage!” _ a booming voice outside roared. Winston yelped, the loud sound hurting his ears. Sage only whipped his head to face the opening of the cave. 

_ “What?” _ Sage snapped. His ears hadn’t even twitched at the loud voice outside.

“We need to talk,” she spat back at him. Winston tentatively moved forward and looked toward the front of the cave, at the opening of it. A deep, rich red snout with sooty-black dusting was pushed into the opening of the cave. As Sage approached, it withdrew, and Winston caught a glimpse of the rest of the dragon. It was a few seconds before he decided to slowly follow Sage outside, to see what was going on. 

A massive dragoness was stalking the edge of the island. Smoke was billowing in thick, angry clouds from her muzzle. Her blood-red scales glistened in a way that reminded him of rubies, and they reflected strange shadows due to the crest of fire trailing from her forehead to head tail-tip (which, Winston thought, was strange because it was burning a blinding, platinum-white color). She had her wings tucked to her sides tightly, the white membranes were difficult to see. She continued to talk as she stalked back and forth, pacing, white claws tearing at the earth.

“There’s a dragon who has taken over Dragon’s Peak--”

“Know that already. Also know that he’s massacred plenty of dragons and can breathe fire that can pretty much reduce anyone to ash. So, did you learn anything useful?” Sage cut her off and asked, his tone savage and unforgiving. The dragoness whipped her muzzle around to face him, molten-orange eyes blazing. Deep, jagged cuts marred her muzzle. Winston thought they looked fresh.

“Try listening for a minute!” she hissed, blowing smoke directly into the elf’s face. Sage broke into a fit of coughing. Satisfied, the dragoness continued speaking. “While there, I was able to discover he is a Dark and Light elemental hybrid, which as you know, is usually impossible and therefore, he’s volatile. That may be where he got his lovely little power.”

Finished spluttering, Sage stood stiff as a board as he listened to the dragoness, his ears tense and swiveled forward. “Mez, you’re sure of this?”

“Yes,” Mez, the dragoness, assured him.

Sage’s ears then began to twitch, and he shook his head. “It’s Stealth,” he mumbled, and then hurried back toward the cave. He left Winston alone with the massive dragoness whose fire had begun to burn a more bluish-silver color than the platinum white it had been earlier. He swallowed.

He then noticed that she didn’t just have jagged, bloody marks on her muzzle. Her left front paw, which was frosted and dusted black about a third of the way up like the rest of her legs, had a raw look to it as well. It looked as if the scales had been burned away, but the flesh underneath was ashen, even if tender-looking. He looked away quickly as the dragoness dipped her head to lick the wound.

“Wh..what happened?” Winston asked, realizing the stupidity of his question only after he had asked it. She had spoken as if she’d confronted the dragon they had been discussing; that was likely where she had earned the injuries she boasted. 

“That dragon was a lot more agile than he looked,” Mez growled. “And had more friends than I expected.”

“Did he strike you? With his fire?” Winston pressed a little further. 

Mez’s molten eyes locked onto his. He stiffened. “I’m fine, Air elf,” she hissed.


	6. Scrambling and Politics

Stealth Elf balked at Spyro’s request, and then pressed her hands to her hips. “Why?” she asked flatly. “I don’t have any reason to go calling him. None. And I don’t want to get his hopes up thinking I finally changed my mind - which I can assure you is exactly what he’ll think the moment I try to contact him. Not to mention the Guardians don’t get involved with good and evil. There’s no such thing to them. Surely you know that at least, from what Eon said? They are involved only in the balance.”

“And having thousands of those in Dragon’s Peak ousted and killed and endangered doesn’t alter the balance?” Spyro tilted his head at her, cracking a grin he was sure he saw her fists tense at. “Please. We really need their help, some information, on what we’re up against.”

“Fine. I will try to contact him, but only for your help,” Stealth growled. She focused. Sage had instructed her on how to contact him if she ever desired to change her mind, which was why she knew the second she tried he would jump to that conclusion. She gritted her teeth and simply focused anyway. The telepathic connection opened almost like a floodgate with Sage’s flowing Life energy, and his enthusiasm.

_ Stealth? _ he asked immediately, a poorly-hidden edge of excitement in his voice.

_ Don’t get so excited. I was asked to contact you on Master Eon’s behalf. We need information on what you know of this entity that controls Dragon’s Peak, _ Stealth Elf replied harshly, crushing the excitement just as roughly as if she had used blades instead of words. She could almost envision him recoiling.

_ What does he want to know? Because, frankly, we don’t know much, _ Sage replied. His voice had taken on a more snarky and sharp edge. She supposed that was what she should have expected, considering the massive death toll that, according to Hurcella, was still rising in and around Dragon’s Peak. The ousted dragons were also causing havoc in other locations around Central to Eastern Central Skylands.

_ Yes. But you know something. _ Stealth responded flatly, unwilling to play this game since he was upset she wasn’t contacting him over his proposal from years and years ago. She was certain that Dragon’s Peak’s events had much to do with his mood, but she had not helped.  _ So, do tell. _

_ He’s a dragon. Combination of Light and Dark element, extremely dangerous. He breathes-- _

Stealth cut him off.  _ He breathes a flame that can destroy living beings instantaneously, we know that much. _ She paused, listening as an annoyed huff fed through the wavering telepathic connection. 

_ Skylanders are advised to stand down. This is a matter of balance importance, _ Sage started, carefully choosing his words.  _ Please. We do not need more deaths added to the body count, and I can almost assure you that’s what will happen if Eon sends Skylanders there. You realize that, right? _

Stealth Elf had realized that, yes. Beating an enemy that had a trump card that far surpassed all of their abilities was a difficult obstacle to overcome, and she could think of no individual or group of individuals who could counteract it. She found herself thinking deeply for a moment, thinking about the consequences of the Skylanders as a whole interfering with Dragon’s Peak… and then she irritably snapped back across the line,  _ Stop it! I know what you’re doing. I am not a Guardian, Sage. I will never be a Guardian. I have told you this time and time again. I have said no this time as well. Focus, please? One more question. If you advise us to stand down from Dragon’s Peak, then what do you advise we do instead? We cannot just do nothing. You know that as well as I do. _

_ Relief efforts. While his power is unsettling,  _ Sage seemed to pause, and Stealth Elf wondered if he was going pale with a realization.  _ It could just be a change of power in Dragon’s Peak. He is a dragon. All of his followers are dragons. This could just be a chaotic civil war of terrifying proportions. There… there may… _

Stealth Elf finished for him.  _ There may be nothing anyone can do, _ she said, a mournful note of finality in the telepathic tone.  _ So we are to ignore calls from Dragon’s Peak proper, and answer only to the relief efforts surrounding it. Islands and states affected by the fleeing dragons. _

_ Correct. _

With that, Stealth Elf ended the connection with a snap of her fingers and a puff of green magic into the air. She did not tell Sage goodbye. He had walked her through that conversation as if he were trying to guide her thought process like the one of a Guardian’s. She did not want to be a Guardian, nor would she ever be one; she had seen their work, had done her fair share of time observing them. She had no desire for that life. 

She looked up from where she had been staring at the ground in an almost entranced way. She repeated what she had gathered from Sage to Spyro in a matter-of-fact, monotone voice. “Sage says that the new ruler of Dragon’s Peak is another dragon, backed by dragons that follow him. He thinks that we should not interfere because it’s likely there’s a violent civil war happening in Dragon’s Peak. We need to focus our efforts on relief for impacted states other than Dragon’s Peak.”

“I hate politics,” Spyro growled, curling a lip to showcase his fangs. “Are you sure? A civil war. All of this? And what about his fire?”

“He doesn’t know anything about that,” Stealth Elf said. “And that’s what he advised us to do. He is a dragon, and will do as dragons in Dragon’s Peak do. Leaders in Dragon’s Peak have never exactly been chosen peacefully.”

It was true. Power in Dragon’s Peak was still exchanged in a very feral manner, with the leaders clashing for battle. There were typically rules and regulations regarding the events leading up to the battle, and widespread destruction was certainly disallowed, but what did those laws matter when the stone pillars they had been engraved on were smashed and smoldering? 

She did agree with him on one thing. She hated the political aspect that came with being a member of the Skylanders. It was unavoidable. Politics invaded the core of their work, with Call Handling enduring the bulk of it. The Skylanders often found themselves fighting the issue of jurisdiction. The platform the Skylanders operated from was transcendent of such laws, as it was a heroic group that had been, for over ten thousand years, protecting Skylands from all forms of evil, but some countries saw that transcendence as an insult, as if the Skylanders were treating the situation like they could not handle themselves. Some countries and states completely forbade the entrance of Skylanders, and had declared it completely legal to attack one on sight, as it was considered a foreign enemy (the Drow Mainland and Northern Isles currently were two such states).

Spyro sighed. “I don’t like it,” he muttered, “but if that’s the case, then there isn’t anything we can do about it. We might be about to add Dragon’s Peak to our ever-growing list of ‘places we can’t go.’” He gave a half-hearted smile to her and said, “Thanks. Now get some rest, and this time I mean it.”

Stealth Elf rolled her eyes and showed Spyro to the door that led outside of her quarters.

* * *

 

“You could have died!” Camo puffed as soon as he reached Sunburn, intercepting him on his way to his quarters. “I heard what happened out there! Are you alright? Why haven’t you seen the medics?”

Sunburn’s feathers ruffled and his orange eyes narrowed at Camo. “I’ve heard enough about how I could have died today, Camo, thanks.” He stopped and sat on his haunches, his reddish tail curling around his scaled legs. “And because I didn’t get hurt. He didn’t attack any of us. It was someone we didn’t know. He just scared us good, then sent us on our way.”

Camo relaxed, feeling the tension in his muscles fade away. He had been uneasy all day, which had put the usually happy-go-lucky prankster in a sour and indifferent mood. While his favorite prank victims were relieved to catch a break, Sunburn was visibly concerned… or annoyed. He wasn’t sure which. Camo still found it so difficult to understand Sunburn’s body language sometimes. He wondered if it was the phoenix part of him that interfered with the draconic body language. “So… you’re okay, then. Good.” Camo tilted his head. “What are they going to do about it?”

Sunburn yawned, stretching his beak wide. He shook his head a little and pawed at his forehead. Camo figured it was to clean a part of it. “I don’t know. Spyro sent us out to rest, said he would discuss it later.” With that, a silence fell between the two draconic Skylanders. It was dark at the Citadel, and most were asleep, save for the few night owls and those on guard duty, and the rebels, of course. There were certain rules for Skylanders that stayed at the Citadel, especially in regards to housing, and who could stay where; it seemed that, even after years and years of old rules barring romantic relationships among Skylanders being dissolved, that their roots were hard to kill. It was still forbidden for Skylanders to have other Skylanders in their rooms late at night, and it was still considered fairly scandalous for Skylanders to keep their relationships secretive.

Camo thought it was all ridiculous. Most of it stemmed from the fact that those that helped Eon run the Skylanders - Hugo, Cali, among other nameless and seemingly ancient mabu, elves, and Skylands humans - were old-fashioned and believed the rules never should have been changed in the first place. He felt slightly uncomfortable as he thought about it, for he knew a major reason for the rule change was sitting there, right in front of Sunburn: Camo. Camo’s very existence had challenged much of the rigid social structure that had characterized the Skylanders before Spyro had arrived. 

He had been told that his father, Sundrake, had a long-term relationship with a dragoness outside of the Citadel, far from it. For whatever reason, Camo had been abandoned by the Tree of Life, and Sundrake and his mother had disappeared. The Skylanders never heard from them again. Camo had heard the whispers and knew that many believed Sundrake had been unable to handle the shame, and didn’t come back to the Skylanders because of it; some thought he might have ran off with his mate, while more radical rumors joked that he killed his mate to hide his indecency, abandoned Camo by the Tree, and then skipped town into the Dragon Realms.

Sundrake had been revered, much like Spyro was now, only that Camo had heard veteran Skylanders and employees at the Citadel talk about him as if he had been ten times the dragon Spyro ever was. They said that the rules were changed so that the Skylanders would be more motivated, and less inclined to leave if they did develop feelings for someone. But the time or the ways heroes could actually get together were still tightly restricted.

He was interrupted by Sunburn’s soft, feathery tail looping around his hips and his body heat as he moved closer to him. “Sorry. I’m just really tired,” Sunburn offered, beginning to preen Camo’s scales (which were thin and leaf-like, making them very similar to feathers, despite the fact they were very much still scales). Camo welcomed the attention and sighed. He didn’t like feeling so tense. It was much easier, and more fun, to joke around. He smiled a little and looked at Sunburn through the corner of his eye. 

“How much do you think Hugo hates us?” he asked. Hugo seemed to be the loudest of the naysayers in regards to Skylanders getting together. He strongly believed that it detracted their focus from missions, and that a Skylander simply had no time nor place in their lives where such interactions were appropriate. Camo greatly enjoyed proving him wrong. 

“Oh, a lot,” Sunburn answered flatly, grinning a little as well. “He wishes we could just go back to the dark ages, when Skylanders had to pretend to be male if they weren’t just to get in and had to wear chastity belts just to prove their ‘undying love for purity.’”

“He’s just upset he can’t get any,” Camo coyly said, touching his leafy tail to Sunburn’s feathered one. 

“Oh, definitely. You think he’s ever tried to hit on anyone? I wonder if they cried.”

* * *

 

Hurcella had gawked at Drobot as if he had suddenly grown an extra head upon giving her the order to stop answering calls from Dragon’s Peak proper. She folded her short, angular ears against her skull and shook her head. “What do you mean we need to stop answering those calls? Do you guys even know what’s going on there?” Sometimes, Hurcella felt that the Skylanders didn’t comprehend the severity of the situations she and her team at Call Handling had to deal with. Ordering many dire requests for assistance, any number of which could be a matter of life and death, was stressful enough as it was, and almost all of the requests from Dragon’s Peak were out of dire need and desperation. She had expended so much energy ordering some, and now, she had just been ordered to throw them all out.

“Yes, they know, and in fact, that’s why we aren’t answering the calls. It’s believed to be a civil war and a change in leadership. We can’t interfere with that,” Drobot told her quietly. Even with his mechanical voice synthesizer, she could hear the solemnity in his tone.

“I call bullshit,” Hurcella grumbled. “And you sound like you do too.”

“It’s not my place to argue with the order, just to deliver it. No more requests are to be accepted from Dragon’s Peak proper,” he said flatly, and with more conviction. Hurcella curled her lip into a sneer.

“Fine. I’ll start reordering things. Tell everyone to hang on at Mission Briefing, and go start stopping some before they head off. Flameslinger and a few others had a mission very early this morning on the outskirts. I suggest you go find him, and stop him.”

It was now Drobot’s turn to simply stare at her. 

“What?” Hurcella snapped, shooting an icy blue glare at Drobot. 

“They sent Flameslinger to lead a mission on the outskirts of Dragon’s Peak.” She wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement when Drobot said it. It sounded like a mix of both.

“Not my place,” Hurcella responded coldly, turning around and stalking back into the Call Handling center. Whatever trouble Flameslinger got himself into, it was up to them now. 


	7. The Secrets We Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Rape is briefly mentioned, but not described nor does it actually occur in this scene.   
> \- There is considerable violence in this scene but nothing brutally graphic.

The sniffly mabu landed them at a crowded dock, the hordes of elves gathered there with unkempt hair and ragged clothes moving collectively backwards as they did. The airship they were in was a small one, comparable to a taxi in its purpose; it was perhaps one-third the size of the Dread-Yacht. It was one of many ships like it that carried Skylanders to and from missions and was helmed by one of the many pilots that the Skylanders had working for them. It did, however, have enough room to comfortably seat its six warriors: Flameslinger, Fright Rider, Shroomboom, Ninjini, Bash, and Warnado. 

Ninjini looked a little uncomfortable due to the cramped space, but they were about to disembark anyway. 

Flameslinger did not see in intense detail, for his vision was restricted by a self-imposed blindfold; however, he did see in a warm field of colors, enduring and bright to his internal eye. Everyone had a small, purplish outline, and everything was visible in detailed colors that gave him all the information he needed to operate. Sometimes it was frustrating, to not truly see his surroundings, but to not see in the thermal vision he so relied on was an even worse thought, not to mention the stares he received whenever his blindfold was removed. 

Their mabu pilot nervously looked around at them. To Flameslinger, he appeared mostly a pale orange, with dark red towards his midsection. Pale purple lines marked the distinctions of his eyes and nose in his thermal vision. “Should I open the gates, or…? They sound a little… what’s the word… irate down there.”

“Just open up. They’ll calm down,” Ninjini said quietly. She was an exception to how living beings generally appeared in his vision, as were most that exuded strong elemental power. Her body heat was displayed in the shape of her form - orange and reds, naturally - but a shade of blue-violet encased her like a veil. Her genie tail further influenced his vision, sending out clouds of purple waves in his vision. Beings of strong elemental affinity could disengage his thermal vision, distort it, though Ninjini’s influence wasn’t enough to make it impossible for him to function. 

Flameslinger nodded and pointed at the door. “Yeah, we’re fine.” 

But as soon as the tall wooden door creaked to the side as the mabu pulled on a crank that looked stone cold blue in Flameslinger’s vision, elves rushed up the extended ramp that had already been dropped. Flameslinger held up his hands and found Rider at his side, urging them backward, speaking in that soothing but firm voice of his. He was an Undead element, and looked blue and black in his vision, not because of his elemental affinity but rather because he was not alive. Only subtle blue spots in the fellow elf’s chest told him that he was still there.

“What took so long? These damn dragons are trashing the place!”

“Please, you’ve got to do something. They’re going to run us out of here!”

Those were among some of the only few phrases Flameslinger caught before the roar of the throng of elves became too loud for him to understand. His sensitive ears recoiled from the onslaught of information and flattened at each side of his head. “Calm down, we’re ‘ere to ‘elp!” he offered cheerily, beginning to push his way through. Among the anxious and worried, however, were also the squealing and excited. None had likely ever seen Skylanders before in their lives, and plenty were ecstatic to do so. Flameslinger felt hands grab at his blindfold, and he grinned cheekily when the red one gave way to reveal the green one underneath. 

“Try again later,” he called as he finally pushed his way through, more amused than annoyed at the fact he would have to get a new red blindfold. He was followed by the rest of his team. Ninjini paid no heed to the attention, icily glowering at the smaller elves as she passed them, dwarfing each and every one of them, They gave her a wide berth, and consequently, the rest of the team as well. Once away from the excited and anxious crowd, they found themselves confronted with another chaotic scene ahead of them. 

It wasn’t loud and chaotic as Flameslinger had heard the Dragon’s Peak expedition had been, but there were indeed dragons fluttering about the tiny, peaceful outpost of the Elven Kingdom. The colors that they showed in his vision told him everything he needed to know that others would have gathered from body language and facial expressions - some were injured, marked by where an unusual amount of body heat was shown close to their soft purple outlines, and all of them were frightened. A halo of green surrounded their foreheads and paws, giving him that information. A quick survey, and Flameslinger looked back at his comrades. Rider was standing behind him with his beloved ostrich, Fright, standing at his side and tugging at his reins, while the others were behind him. The crowd of elves slowly followed them, though a few uniformed elves were working at keeping the masses at bay now, with loud, demanding voices.

“So, what are we gonna do about this?” Warnado asked gruffly, waddling up next to Flameslinger. He was cooler, body temperature-wise, appearing as a more yellow with green around the edges of his frame, before the thin purple outline came into view. A blue swirl of color on his forehead beamed with Air energy. “I dunno how they’ll like us just waltzing up to ‘em.”

“Well, first of all, we need to get ‘zis crowd under control. It’s a mess. Rider, Ninjini, Boom, you ‘zink ‘vou can go calm ‘em down and ‘elp ‘em get back to ‘zeir ‘omes? I’m guessing ‘zat’s why so many are out. Dragons scaring ‘zem out,” Flameslinger said, trying to think logically through the chaotic noise. He watched as they accepted his orders quietly, and then turned around to do a little crowd control. An exasperated and weary looking set of uniformed elves graciously welcomed the help from figures even more authoritative than they.

“Rest of ‘vou, ready to round up some dragons?” Flameslinger asked with a cheeky grin and as an arm reached for his bow from its holster behind him, as well as an arrow from the quiver.

Bash and Warnado chuckled as a response to his cheery disposition. Warnado stopped himself and shook his head. “C’mon, Flame! Stop makin’ me laugh! This is serious!”

Flameslinger laughed and together they marched toward the first of the several dragons roaming the township fearfully. It was wild-eyed and nested on the top of a pointed roof, its skilled, savage claws gripping the shingles (and simultaneously tearing some off whenever it adjusted its position, Flameslinger surmised, based on the sound of falling debris he heard whenever it shifted). The vision in his head told him the dragon was male, of the Fire element, and very, very afraid. It also seemed to be low on the scale of intelligence, since it did not respond when he or any of the other Skylanders attempted to talk to him. 

Dragons in Skylands ranged in sentience from those that were on par with lizards and other reptiles to ones that rivaled elves and humans in intelligence and ability to learn. The scale was typically called the Scourge Scale of Intelligence (someone whose last name was Scourge having been the one to develop it), to avoid it sounding insulting whenever it was simply referred to as the ‘scale of intelligence,’ and while in a way Flameslinger could see how it was derogatory, understanding the scale was vital to missions that involved dragons. The powerful and fascinating beasts inhabited almost every available land in Skylands, and recognizing the behavior of one could help immensely in trying to peacefully solve a problem - such as this one.

Flameslinger, unfortunately, knew that for dragons like the frightened male on the roof, there was not much hope. Traumatized, injured, and displaced from their home, they would likely try to return home and be killed then, or fail to etch out a life in a different frontier due to them being ill-suited to the environment. Warnado and Bash began to try their best to coax the dragon down, but then Flameslinger shook his head, realizing this was not going to work. “‘Old on,” he called, “I’m going to need to get in contact wi’z a rescue for ‘im. ‘E’s low on ‘ze scale,” he explained when Warnado shot him an annoyed glare that he could sense even within his thermal vision.

“Who?” Bash queried, snorting. “I’m almost certain every rescue in Skylands is having their tails called off over this.” Bash and Warnado shared a laugh.

“‘Ze one I’ve got in mind is a good man,” Flameslinger said, waving away Bash’s worries. “‘E will make it ‘ere eventually.” But he didn’t want to call his friend without a full understanding of their surroundings, and so he pulled Bash and Warnado along as they inspected the other invading dragons. Others were more intelligent, some enough to speak, and many agreed (however reluctantly) to let the elves back into their homes, though they demanded compensation from the Skylanders. Scrambling for something to tell them, Flameslinger politely offered to show them to unclaimed lands on their way home, or they could wait for a friend of his to help them until they found out what to do since their displacement. 

Flameslinger was not known as the most eloquent or articulate Skylander, but he knew how to handle the public when he had to, and more so when it came to the beaten, frightened, or wronged, of which these dragons qualified in all three categories. Most agreed to wait for his friend, while a few asked to be shown to unclaimed lands later.

* * *

 

The sickly mabu that had piloted the group of Skylanders there had fallen asleep once the Skylanders had disembarked. Half-draped on the wheel and half collapsed in a nearby seat, he was unresponsive when the radio began to filter through, frantically asking if he was there. His name - Gero - was called repeatedly by someone he would have recognized as Sprocket had he been awake, but the mabu never reacted to the buzzing machine. Sprocket then began to tell him an important message despite the fact he was not responding.

“Gero? Gero, we need to cancel that mission you’re out on! Where’s Flameslinger and the others?”

The radio finally died when Gero continued to fail to respond. He sleepily pulled himself off the wheel a few moments later to curl up more comfortably in the seat. Of course, he was rudely interrupted when something clattered to the ship next to him, enormous claws gripping the wooden deck with splintering force. Gero blearily sat up and looked around, blinking confusion. When he saw the dragon standing over him, his first thought was that it was one of the confused and frightened dragons from the elven island he was boarded on, and he rather calmly tried to engage conversation with it.

“Ah… hello. Did the Skylanders tell you to wait here?” he asked in a raspy tone. His throat hurt. “I… think they’re overestimating the size of my ship,” Gero laughed, which devolved to a violent cough.

“No,” the dragon answered flatly. He was for the most part bulky and square-bodied, similar in build to Spyro, only if Spyro were blown up several times his current size. The dragon had orange-red scales that were dismissed by a black cape  of color that seemed to cover the dragon’s back. A crest of tiny, red spires wound its way from his forehead to the base of his tail. Ruby-red, crystalline material clustered around the tip of his tail in a spade. The dragon narrowed cold, blue-violet eyes at Gero and the tense, stocky mabu had a sinking feeling in his chest. He slowly began to move his hand toward a button on the ship’s dashboard. The dragon, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice.

“Where are your Skylanders? This island?” the dragon asked, a forked tongue flicking through a gap in his teeth (which were fully displayed despite the fact his mouth was closed; all appeared to be viciously sharp). 

“Yes,” Gero replied quietly. His hand suddenly darted to the button and smashed it, a blaring siren spilling from the ship’s hull and radiating outward. The dragon snarled and recoiled, moving his head side to side as if he were trying to shake off the disturbing noise. While he was distracted, Gero took the chance to bolt off the ship, and down the ramp, to escape… or so he thought.

He felt pressure on his shoulders, and then his chest and chin collided with the ground. He tasted blood as his teeth inadvertently clamped around a part of his inner cheek. “Fuck,” he groaned, blinking to try to make sense of the multilayered image that came through when he looked above him. Three dragons gradually became one. This one was much smaller than the other, perhaps even smaller than Spyro, he thought. It had a lithe, thin, but still powerful frame, and angular jaws. Its teeth, too, were bared despite the fact its jaws were closed. He swore the beast bore a grin as it held him down with its sharp claws digging into his back. 

Gero sighed and let himself simply lay flat on the ground. The alarm on the ship had stopped sounding, and nobody had come yet. He was certain they had heard it, but there was no telling how far away they were at this point. He did not want to die, but he had a feeling he might.

There was a reason the Skylanders were always hiring.

* * *

 

Flameslinger had winced when the alarm had gone off. Even as far away as they were, the piercing sound still felt like it was puncturing his eardrums. But he didn’t have time to waste recovering from it, because he knew that that sound meant something serious was happening back at the ship. Calling to Bash and Warnado, they all raced back toward the ship just in time to see a massive Fire dragon stalking around the dock they had arrived on. The masses of elves that had been there to greet them were suddenly gone, and Flameslinger saw through his colorful field of vision Ninjini, Shroomboom, and Fright Rider working to try to subdue him. 

Then he saw the dragon let loose a torrent of flames that showed up blindingly white in his vision, scorching the earth everywhere it touched. “Fall back!” Flameslinger shouted as he drew closer. He would regroup with them and they would better formulate their attack-

“Listen!” the massive dragon boomed as the Skylanders drew closer. “I am not here to fight! But you must listen to me.”

He was bright red in Flameslinger’s vision, lined with lines of white and purple. His eyes were outlined in yellow. He dwarfed them all easily, except for perhaps Ninjini, who somewhat rivaled his height. But she too obeyed and began to move backward, albeit with her swords drawn and her eyes never leaving their adversary.

“Please,” Flameslinger’s ears picked up their pilot’s pleading words, and noticed that around the larger dragon’s feet, there was a smaller Fire dragon, and it was holding Gero close in something like a full-body hug. Except this hug included the smaller Fire dragon’s claws being poised next to the mabu’s neck, ready to slice at a moment’s notice. Gero then broke into a fit of coughing and his legs began to waver. 

Flameslinger set his jaw forward to stop from portraying any emotion that the dragon could see, and demanded, “What do ‘vou want? Let our pilot go. ‘E ‘as no’zing to do wi’z ‘vou. ‘Vour fight is wi’z us, dragon.”

“He is a part of you,” the larger dragon said simply, quietly; he was very calm and collected now. The area felt incredibly tense and Flameslinger’s mind reeled. He didn’t know what the dragon that had been confronted in Dragon’s Peak looked like - he hadn’t paid well enough attention, he guessed, despairingly - and for all he knew, this was him. He stalled for a few minutes, desperately trying to think of what to do… but then the larger dragon made the decision for him.

“We’re going to play a game,” he said. “But first and foremost, my name is Pyrule. My friend here,” Pyrule gestured with his muzzle toward the smaller dragon beneath him, “is Blaze. And he suggested a most wonderful game we could play with the Skylanders. Another friend of ours knows a lot about all of you, and even then, information about you guys spreads like wildfire. The masses just can’t get enough of you, can they?”

Flameslinger narrowed his eyes suspiciously underneath his blindfold. He  didn’t like where this was going. “What game?” he asked. Glancing to his left, he saw Bash giving him a disapproving look. He didn’t have the opportunity to discuss with him or anyone else at the moment, though, and so he powered through. “What game, Pyrule?”

“Well, I don’t know if you holier-than-thou Skylanders know any drinking games, but are you familiar with Never Have I Ever?”

“Drinking games?” Ninjini snorted. “You going to buy us a few cold ones, dragon?”

“Pyrule,” the dragon snapped at her. “And no. I’m afraid this version has a much more serious consequence. You’ve all got things to hide, well, I say the truth is better in the open.” Something told Flameslinger that Pyrule had a grin widening on his muzzle. “We play… what, there are six of you? We play six rounds. The loser gets a special surprise when they lose, while the one who loses the most… At the end, they have a choice.”

“And what is that choice?” Rider asked, sounding incredulous. 

“They can choose to come with me, back to the rightful king,” Pyrule said slowly, “or, I can kill Gero here, and you can all go free. He is pretty sick, anyway. I’m shocked he’s even out here. And you left him all alone…”

Flameslinger’s ears twitched. He had left Gero alone, ordering everyone else to do something on the island while he was left aboard the ship, unprotected…

“We’re game,” Warnado snapped. Flameslinger sighed in defeat, not sure what other way he could avoid it. 

“Why are we playing his damn game again?” Ninjini demanded. “We could all take him at once.”

“With a hostage?” Shroomboom asked. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not get Gero killed.”

“Fine, let’s play, ‘zen,” Flameslinger interrupted them. He heard Ninjini give a string of ancient elven words under her breath, and he was fairly sure they were swears of some kind.

He was somewhat afraid. He knew the rules of the game - everyone put five fingers up, holding their hand out almost like a high five, and if the host said something that someone had done, they were to put a finger down, and whoever put all five down first lost - but typically, when someone lost, they had to do something stupid like take a shot of something high in alcohol, or try to chug something. This time, he wasn’t so sure…

“Are you lot insane?” Rider shouted above them all. “We’re Skylanders. Of course he’s going to know things about each and every one of us, the whole of Skylands knows at least five things about each of us!”

“These are things you’ll not find in newspapers or documentaries,” Pyrule offered. “Of course, you could just leave your pilot here and head home now. I wouldn’t care either way.”

“We can’t do that,” Rider said quietly, but through gritted teeth. 

“And he knows it,” Flameslinger shot back, “so let’s play.”

“Good. Now, five fingers up… Bash, you can just mark lines in the ground or something. Warnado, you too. Anyway… Ready?” Pyrule asked, sounding almost excited. Flameslinger saw the edges of his forehead change to a highlighter yellow to tell him such. 

“Ready as ever,” Flameslinger grumbled. 

“Let’s start with something easy, shall we?” Pyrule then followed up with, “Something like… Sprocket. More specifically, never have I ever slept with Sprocket.”

Flameslinger’s stomach flipped and he guiltily lowered a finger. Nobody else did anything, and all eyes were on him. “What?” he said hotly. “It was ages ago!”

“Good, good, no liars just yet,” Pyrule beamed. “Now something a little more scandalous. Never have I ever lied during my initiation to the Skylanders.”

Nobody reacted. Flameslinger felt his heart beating in his chest and glancing at his teammates, saw bluish halos beginning to form around their heads. Doubt, anxiety, worry, fear - blue could mean almost anything negative. Suddenly, Bash sighed shakily and dug a single, deep line into the dirt ahead of him. Warnado followed suit, digging a shorter and more shallow line in front of him.

Flameslinger gnawed at his lower lip. He had lied, he knew he had; when he had first joined, he had failed to tell anyone of his terrible weakness when it came to water, and it had nearly gotten him - and others - killed. Water, whenever it reached his eyes, would seem to drive away the intense Fire energy and blind him. It was almost like having a switch pulled; everything, even with his blindfold off, would simply go black.

Pyrule waited patiently. But when Flameslinger hesitated to answer even longer, he glanced down at Blaze. The smaller dragon opened his jaws and gave Gero a tender bite on the cheek, to which the mabu began to struggle and push through ragged gasps for air.

“Fine, fine!” Flameslinger said finally, another finger going down. This wasn’t going so well already…

“Damn, Flameslinger, that wasn’t even that bad,” Warnado called, “just… keep playin’ the game, alright guys? We don’t gotta tell anyone about any of this.”

Pyrule snorted. “Never have I ever killed the man who changed my element,” he said slowly, annunciating every syllable clearly for them all to hear.

Flameslinger could say that he had never done that. He had always been of the Fire element… he looked around curiously. Relieved yellows were replacing the blue halos around his teammates, or most of them, anyway. Rider had begun to stroke Fright, and a deep blue ring had formed around his head. “Was me,” he said finally, putting a finger down.

“What?” Shroomboom asked in surprise. He had seemingly opted to be quiet until that point. “You killed someone, Rider?” It was true. Rider was known for being sportsmanlike no matter where he went, to battle or jousting. 

“That man flipped my life completely around,” Rider answered quietly. “I regret what I did. If I could change it, if I could go back and stop myself, I would.”

Flameslinger didn’t have time to offer words of comfort before the next question was asked, and he stopped cold. 

“Never have I ever punched my father.”

Another guilty finger retreated to the security of his palm, and his ears went down too. Nobody questioned him about that. He was almost concerned about that; did he really come off as someone like that? Then again, he had told plenty of his friends that his father had been absent at best and nasty at worst. Nobody else seemed to react, no other fingers went down, no other lines were drawn.

“Never have I ever tried to hurt myself,” Pyrule continued on. Everyone was still silent except for Gero’s coughing.

Ninjini put a finger down. At the expression she got, she returned a sharp, “Well, what would you do if you were trapped in a bottle for a few millennia? Play cards? You start to get ideas.”

Rider put another finger down, quickly, almost like he hoped nobody had seen. But with Ninjini right behind him, Flameslinger noticed. “Rider?” he said, sounding almost insulted. “What?”

“You don’t think I have more than a few passing thoughts about my past every now and then?” Rider responded carefully. “Ever killed a man you shouldn’t have, Flame?”

Flameslinger winced, drawing away from Rider. Almost as if on cue, Pyrule said, “Never have I ever killed my brother.”

“That’s not me. I had no brothers,” Ninjini shrugged.

“Same here,” Bash and Warnado replied in unison. They both exchanged a tension-cracking laugh.

“I didn’t really have one of those…” Shroomboom chimed in, giggling to himself. “Unless spores have brothers…? I dunno, either way I didn’t kill anyone either.”

That left Rider and Flameslinger. Rider then shook his head. “No. I had no brothers, either… Flame?”

Flameslinger hung his head. Another finger went down. 

“Raise your hands where they can be seen by all,” Pyrule growled, though Flameslinger felt the comment was directed at him. Humiliated and his heart pounding in his chest, he held up the hand high above his head, only one left upright. 

“You… killed one of your brothers?” Rider sounded shocked. “But you always talk about them so… so… lovingly. Your family comes to visit all the time…”

“‘Zere was ano’zer bro’zer of mine,” Flameslinger began quietly, lifting his head and fighting tears. Crying also made it difficult to see. “Blazer.” He chuckled, whimpering afterward, it feeling almost painful while he tried to avoid crying. “We all came from a town called Trailblaze. We called him Trailblazer a lot. ‘E always went out a’ead of us, and was always into trouble… ‘e got mixed up wi’z ‘ze drow like my o’zer siblings did. But ‘e was changed by ‘zem. ‘E started ‘unting me down…”

“Save your sob stories for later,” Pyrule snapped. “We’re not done here, and I do not have all day. Never have I ever gotten a team horrendously lost on a mission because I was too proud to admit I was lost.”

Warnado huffed and drew a line ahead of him. “Compared to what you’ve been railin’ on Flame with, I’m a damn saint. At least I didn’t kill anybody.”

“Warnado, stop it,” Bash said with his deep, gravelly voice. “They’re guilty enough as it is.”

“Is that so, Warnado?” Pyrule chuckled, leaning down and pushing his muzzle close to the skyturtle. “I can remedy that,” he said darkly before lifting his head and saying loudly and clearly, “Never have I ever  _ raped _ or  _ nearly raped _ anyone. Come on, start putting those fingers down. There’s quite a few of you here.”

“Nobody here would do that,” Ninjini said firmly. “So whatever information you’ve gotten, and wherever from, is incorrect.” She summoned two incredibly sharp, dangerous blades from thin air - wishblades, Flameslinger remembered what she called them - and began to rush at Pyrule. The dragon swatted her away with his tail, sending her careening into the dirt, and Pyrule picked him up with his teeth gently looped on his shirt, and carried him over a deep lake near the elven village. 

Flameslinger could hear other Skylanders giving attack to the behemoth dragon, but it seemed to take little notice. Fearful, he grabbed onto anything he could to keep from falling into the water that looked like a black hole in his colored vision. But it didn’t matter, even as he clung to the dragon’s rough, scaly muzzle, as when the dragon opened his mouth, Flameslinger plummeted into the icy, black water. He thrashed and pulled himself back up to the surface as quickly as he could, but it was difficult to find it when he couldn’t see, and even more difficult to try to locate the shore. Fear settled into his chest. He was just glad the others didn’t have a thermal-magic vision like him, because they would be seeing just how terrified he was.

* * *

 

“Enough games!” Ninjini snapped after the dragon dropped Flameslinger, dusting herself off. Her shoulder ached, and an angry red mark lined the right side of her face and neck, but she barely felt it. “Rider, go get Flame,” she ordered. He had already been dashing away on Fright toward the lake before she had said anything.

She whipped out her wishblades, and rushed across the ground toward the dragons again. Blaze finally went to make good on his threat to cut Gero’s throat, and the weakened mabu blanched as he did, but then Gero suddenly fell limp. The sudden change in balance caused Blaze to drop his hostage and fall forward on his chin. In the few seconds he took to right himself, Ninjini hit him in the end of his snout with the blunt end of a wishblade and then swiped the other dangerously close to his neck, severing a patch of scales and skin from the dragon’s cheek.

Blaze snarled his anger, but backed away from her sharp blades, lashing his tail and flaring his wings. Shroomboom then took the opportunity to launch barrages of explosive mushrooms at the smaller dragon, occupying him. Blaze reminded her strangely of Sunburn, with his lithe frame and similar color pattern. The only thing missing was the enormous crest, the blue markings, and birdlike talons and feet. 

Pyrule turned his attention back to them and stretched open his jaws to give a loud, guttural roar. She winced and pulled her arms up to her ears to cover them momentarily. All eyes fell to the dragon - for a moment, anyway.

“That is enough!” Pyrule bellowed. But Ninjini paid no attention to him, and covered Warnado while he grabbed the limp and shallowly-breathing Gero. Pyrule’s attention was solely on her, but she stared back his challenge. She had toppled far greater beasts than this one, and she would do it again. Bash found his way toward the dragon’s legs and began swiping his tail, throwing the mace at the end into his paws, trying to crush the bony toes and claws. Pyrule’s attention switched between the two Skylanders assaulting him, but he was unsure of who to focus on first, and his hesitation gave Ninjini more than enough time to slash at his thick, scaly hide. 

She placed one upon his throat, and Pyrule gasped as blood dribbled free. It spattered on the ground and a little landed on his front paws. He had been trying to bite Bash and pick him up, much like he had moved Flameslinger, but the flightless dragon was too heavy and his hide too pointed and protected with his rocklike exterior. He turned around to snap jaws at Ninjini’s face, but when that failed, he gave another roar. Except this roar was followed by a burst of whitish flame that she only narrowly avoided by retreating into her bottle for a few seconds. Even inside of her protective past prison, she felt the outside heat up considerably, and quickly.

When she exited, she saw as Bash’s tail finally landed in a critical spot on the dragon’s back feet, crashing into his left ankle. He gave a howl as he collapsed. Pyrule whimpered and struggled, trying to pull himself back to his feet, but failing when his injured foot repeatedly gave out. After a bit more of a beating that left his muzzle dented and bloody, and Ninjini finally putting the tip of a wishblade in between his eyes, Pyrule let out a mournful sound that told Ninjini that he had surrendered (though the way he glared at her was full of pure hatred). 

“Tell Blaze to quit, or are you going to let him fight until he’s as beaten as you?” Ninjini jeered, curling a lip at the downed dragon. 

“Blaze,” Pyrule shouted, “fall back.” He winced. His muzzle must have been hurting quite a lot, seeing as Bash had beaten it slightly inward with his tail.

Ninjini could still hear Blaze and Shroomboom warring behind her. The two came to a stop as Shroomboom relented, and Blaze found his way closer to them. The dragon rumbled his dissatisfaction as he edged closer, flicking his tail mutinously at Ninjini as he passed.

“Now. You both be good dragons while we call Cloudcracker,” Ninjini said through a smirk, giving a twitch of amusement with her ears. But it was short-lived. Blaze’s eyes flew wide in horror and the dragon shook his angular head.

“No way. You won’t catch me dead in Cloudcracker Prison.” And with that, he rose into the air. Ninjini could have followed him, but then she ran the risk of the much larger and more dangerous of the foes, Pyrule, escaping. Bash, Warnado, and Shroomboom anxiously surrounded her and asked her what to do, and she shook her head at them.

“Let him go. He’s not as big a threat as Pyrule.” She glowered back at the downed beast and snickered. “Not so big and bad are you now, huh? I bet half the shit you said was a lie you made the rest of us believe.”

“Oh, no. Everything I told you all was completely true. We have our ways,” he countered threateningly before Ninjini had a chance to scoff at his claim. “I may be many things, but a liar I am not, giantess.”

* * *

 

“Flame! Hold on a minute, be still!” Rider gasped as he struggled to bring the panicking Fire elf to shore. He was finding it more and more difficult to keep himself above the water as well. Flameslinger wasn’t heavy, but he would begin to thrash and swim by himself out of fear and often, the opposite direction to the shore. He understood, he supposed; he couldn’t understand the way Flameslinger described water. To him, he said, water appeared to be an endless black void. It had no shade, no depth, no nothing. If he had his blindfold off, sure, he could see water from a distance, sure, but when it came to actually being in water, it didn’t matter if he had a blindfold on or not. Everything, especially the water, would go black, Flameslinger had once told him.

Finally, Rider managed to wrestle him onto the shore, to which Flameslinger eagerly clawed his way away from the wet grass and mud. Panting, he stood there ahead of Rider shivering and dazedly looking around. His dark blue hair was sopping wet and pressed to his head in haphazard and messy curls, his golden cuff that held his hair in a ponytail hanging on by only a few strands. He slowly and shakily pulled the cuff free and stowed it away in a pocket on the quiver that was still clinging to his back. 

By the time they were on shore and calming down, it seemed the other Skylanders had already managed to subdue Pyrule. Rider watched just in time to see his smaller comrade fleeing through the sky at a quick pace. 

Still likely blinded, Flameslinger looked around animatedly. “What’s going on? Does ‘e still ‘ave Gero?” 

“I don’t know,” Rider answered breathlessly. “But I don’t think so. Come on, Flame.” He said, pressing a reassuring hand to his friend’s shoulder and leading him toward where they had last been. With a whistle, Fright came rushing up beside them. He stood on the other side of Flameslinger as if he understood what the two were doing, using his bony beak to gently help guide their charge.

“Flame,” Rider began gently before they moved in too close to the rest of their team, “You know I don’t blame you for what Pyrule said you did, right? And I am hesitant to even believe what someone who’s trying to kill us would say, anyway...”

“All was true,” Flameslinger answered quietly. He did not sound like himself at all in that moment. Rider felt sorry for his friend. While he had not known the full details regarding Flameslinger’s family affairs involving his father and brothers-turned-drow, he had known the general gist and knew why it wasn’t talked about in full. While generally a close-knit team, and it being exceptionally rare for Skylanders to fight amongst one another, it was not unheard of and Flameslinger did not know several of the Skylanders that had heard his secrets well. For all he knew, they would judge him, and harshly, for them. 

“Even the part where I slept with Sprocket,” Flameslinger broke the silence with the amused comment and cheeky snicker.

“Oh, yes. You might want to go bribe everyone else before we get back to the Citadel. Stealth might kill you.”

“It was before I started really… talking to ‘er!” Flameslinger defended himself hotly. “And no’zing came about from it, clearly.”

Rider nodded along. “Whatever you say, Flame.” He gave him a broad, teasing grin.

“It’s true! Sure, we talked before ‘zat… me and Steal’z… but no’zing much until recently!” Flameslinger’s ears were beginning to turn a darker green, the tips almost red. His voice was beginning to sound more anxious than amused and Rider rolled his eyes (not that anyone would have been able to tell thanks to the lack of a pupil), and decided to back off… for a few minutes, anyway, as they drew closer to the others again.

“Okay, okay. But… how? Sprocket’s just about thrown a wrench at anyone that even remotely hits on her,” Rider tried - and failed - to stifle a laugh.

“It was ‘ze New Year’s Celebration,” Flameslinger mumbled pathetically.

Rider couldn’t help but to roar with laughter by the time they reached Pyrule, Ninjini, and the rest of them again. All eyes turned to him, including Flameslinger, and he desperately tried to regain control of his breathing. “I’m sorry,” Rider gasped, “New Year’s?”

“Yes, now shut up!” Flameslinger hissed. 


End file.
